No Finer Friends
by ElvesAreEpic
Summary: After a visit to Minas Tirith, Legolas tries to make his way back home to Ithilien only for something to go horribly wrong. That's not his only problem, however, for Aragorn is blissfully unaware of everything that happened, leaving Legolas completely on his own.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hehe. *sigh* I love that we all love angst and pain and torture and all that good stuff so we can all be considered a little crazy together :)**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

No Finer Friends

Chapter One

"You will come back again before the year is out, won't you?" Aragorn asked, his deep grey eyes hopeful as he gazed up at Legolas, who sat astride a glossy white mare looking down on him. In the King of Gondor's arms balanced his young son, Eldarion, who was only four. Both father and son were decked out in their finest clothes, though this did not appear to brighten either of their moods any, leaving Aragorn rather decidedly gloomy. Legolas heaved a heavy sigh before replying. He, the direct opposite of his friend, was wearing his normal clothes and a travel worn cloak. His treasured bow and arrows where strapped to his back along with his faithful twin blades.

"I will try, but there is no guarantee that I will be able to slip away from Ithilien," he said carefully, checking his hose as she began to prance impatiently. The bright afternoon sun caught on the surface of his knives and they glinted brightly before the elf shifted once more.

"I understand," Aragorn said as he struggled to keep a hold of the bouncing and fidgeting Eldarion. "Say good-by to Uncle Legolas and then you can go." The human frowned with good humor as his offspring shouted a quick farewell and wiggled free of his arms, shooting off towards the gardens. Legolas smiled at the sight and grinned wider as he turned his head and saw the grimace that his friend was wearing.

"I would be running in the other direction if I where him," the human muttered, his frown deepening even more. Legolas swiftly transformed his features, but there was no hiding the twinkle in his blue eyes, however.

"Aragorn, you have given many a decree before. Why should this one be any different?" he said bracingly, knowing that the king of men was dreading the speech and decree that he had to give later in the afternoon.

"I don't like doing it anytime," the king affirmed, shaking his head in despair as he folded his arms and turned to watch his son. "I don't mind commanding an army or leading them into war, but this is different. I just don't like doing it."

"Now you finally understand what I have gone through all my life!" The elf let a grin widen his face as he gently teased the human.

"That I do," Aragorn agreed, allowing a flash of a smile to cross his face. For a moment, silence reigned supreme and neither seemed willing to break it. Aragorn was gazing unseeingly at the garden path way into which his son had disappeared as Legolas' eyes sought the sky. Arwen was the one who finally did break it as she emerged from the gardens with Eldarion now safely nestled in her arms.

"Aragorn, your councilors are looking for you," she called over. She had already said her good-byes to Legolas and stayed in the background, not wishing to encounter the awkwardness of doing it again. Eldarion wasn't afraid of that, however, and shouted out another farewell at the top of his lungs. He waved energetically and Legolas waved back.

"Coming!" Aragorn called back with tenderness in his voice that was reserved for Arwen and Arwen alone. Turning back to his friend, he smiled up, though a splash of nervousness had also entered his face.

"You will be fine," Legolas said, reaching down to lightly touch the man's shoulders. "Believe it or not, it does get easier everytime. Besides you are the great king Elessar! Trust me, no one in the crowd will be able to tale that this isn't easy for you. They will only see their confident king."

Aragorn nodded, though his face was still gloomy, "Travel safely, _mellon-nin,_ and try to escape back here as soon as possible." He stepped back and brought his hand to his heart, sweeping it out. Legolas followed suit.

"I always do," he said in way of parting, kicking his horse lightly in the sides to get her moving. "Good luck!" he called over his shoulder to which Aragorn raised his hand.

Once his friend was out of sight the man heaved a great sigh. Turning he walked over to his wife and wrapped an arm around her waist. Together the family of three began to walk back. Never did they think that today would prove a day of misfortune that they would look back upon with sorrow.

Legolas, meanwhile, traveled down the seven levels of Minas Tirith and was just threading his way through a crowded street of lower class people towards the tall gates when, by mere accident, his superior elven hearing caught three words that sent a chill down his spin. Elessar, injure, and kill where not words that could bring to pass light and good events, especially not when whispered in such hushed tones.

Alert now, Legolas closed his eyes momentarily, blocking out all his senses and tuning into the sounds around him. The sounds of feet hitting the dirt were drowned by the excited babble and cries of the people of Minas Tirith. Focusing intently, Legolas fought against the surge of sound, trying to find the speaker. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but luck favored him that day as once again his ears caught the voice.

"No one will know. I have it all planned," it said and Legolas swung off his horse, leading her into a nearby ally way. This was worth investigating further and the horse would bring too much attention. He was clearly a horse of fine breeding and Legolas had often seen men's heads turn to follow the creature's graceful and strong movements. No, he would go on foot.

" _Daro, mellon-nin,_ " Legolas whispered to him, fondling his ears gently, before slipping back out into the crowds of swarming people. With one smooth action he flipped the hood of his cloak over his head and pulled it tight around him, trying to be unnoticeable. Staying several foot back from where he suspected the voice was coming from, the prince reflected momentarily on how handy it was to have excellent hearing.

"But what if you make a mistake!" a second voice replied. This one was gruff and deep, indicting a heavy set man. The first one had been light, smooth, and confident. Someone who knew what they were doing. His eyes began to dart back and forth over the crowds, looking for a least two men together that would fit their voices.

"I won't," the first replied with a hint of annoyance.

"But if you mess up, it is both of our heads." The second man dropped his voice lower and Legolas picked up his step, sliding easily between a group of laughing girls. If he had any doubts before now, they had been erased. These two were up to no good; he would beat his left arm and leg on it.

"Shh, don't talk so loud! Just stay out of the way and let me do my job!" the silky voice warned and the elf's stomach dropped even further. He had yet to catch sight of either man and scanned the crowd anxiously, his eyes hidden by his hood. If he was to lose their voices, then he was to lose them and that might mean to lose Estel as well.

"Fine, but don't fail me."

The elf wove gracefully past a pair of running children. A delightful grin suddenly lighted upon his face. He had them!

There, walking purposefully along, were two men with their heads bowed together. One man, the one Legolas thought was more likely to have the deeper voice, was a large solider of Gondor, his outfit complete with weapons and armor. Legolas felt a pang of sadness shot through him as he gazed with an increasing hatred at that man. One of Aragorn's own men was planning to assassinate his king, an unforgivable breech in the most basic of warrior code.

The second man was dressed plainly in a dark tunic and breeches, and Legolas felt his respect for the man grow even as his lip curled automatically. He was expertly dressed as someone whom no one would look twice at. The cloth for the clothes was fine, but no fine enough to warrant a second glance and no jewels adorned his fingers or neck. His shoulder length hair was simply styled. Legolas knew that with this one glance that this man was a master at what he did. He would have to be at his best, for there was no way in the name of the Valar that he was going to let Aragorn die when he had a chance to stop it. Not this day, not ever.

They both stopped and Legolas edged closer. He did not stop as he came near them, but slowed considerable.

"Remember, you do not get the rest of the gold until the job is done," the solider stated softly, pointing a thick finger in the other's face. The traitor then turned, walking quickly off and pushing through the crowds of people. The assassin, however, moved off into a new direction. Legolas paused, his eyes moving rapidly between the two men.

The hesitation was almost unnoticeable before he started off once again, following the assassin.

The man lead Legolas through another six levels of the city, tracing the path that Legolas had originally taken down, and ended in the courtyard where Aragorn was suppose to deliver his speech. With a jolt, the elf realized that this event was bound to take place any minute now and began to hurry his steps. The crowds surrounding them had swelled as what seemed as the whole city struggled to fit into the court yard to hear what their king had to say. It would be far to easy to disappear into such a crowd.

The herald stepped out, his voice floating over the crowd, and Legolas cursed the Valar swiftly, knowing that he was still too far away to make a difference if the assassin acted now. The man's head twisted upwards and Legolas stomach lurched, but he appeared to only be focusing in on Aragorn as the royal family stepped out to cheers.

Ducking behind a large, old, woman with a wrinkled face, Legolas stopped. He was now with-in an arm's distance of the man. Aiming his gaze towards his old friend, the elf pretending to be interesting in what he was saying while cocking his head to the side so that he could watch the assassin out of the corner his eye. The man moved again, dipping his hand into his pocket and Legolas drew in a deep breath, stilling his nerves.

Aragorn's voice rang out, loud and clear, though the court yard and the assassin shifted over a few feet, appearing as if he wanted a better view of the King. Which, Legolas was sure,he did. More important was the fact that there were no guards hovering nearby and that it was in the shadows of one of the great trees that lined the courtyard.

The man withdrew his hand from his pocket with the causality of someone drawing out money, but when his hand left the material something silver and thin was nestled in his palm.

Legolas discreetly inched over, now in a position almost directly next to the man. He could clearly see the blade, a throwing knife, and tensed his muscles, ready to attack at the moment's notice that would be given him.

The man shifted, twirling the knife upwards, and Legolas made his move. Darting forward, he grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it painfully behind the man's back while he dug his fingers into the human's shoulder.

"Don't move," the elf growled dangerously, shaking the man to get his point across. "Drop the knife _now,_ " he ordered in a lethal whisper, bending the wrist hard enough to make the man grunt in pain. "Do it!"

The man allowed the blade to drop with a clatter, his body tense with unmistakable fear and hatred. "Who are you?" he sneered in a whisper, his fist clenching and unclenching.

"That doesn't matter," Legolas snapped, beginning to pull the man back, keeping a firm hold on him, towards a nearby alleyway. He would not cause a scene in the middle of Aragorn's speech, but would simply hold the man until the king was free. After that, it was up to Aragorn what happened to the assassin.

"You are going to regret this," the man warned, flexing his muscles as he attempted to break away, but the elf only tightened his grip, refusing to let the man slip away.

"Fight me and things are going to be worse for you!" Legolas barked softly, shaking him roughly.

"I could yell for a guard, tell them you attacked me for no reason," he threatened, straining his arms once more. Legolas laughed lightly in response, his voice derived of any real mirth as he replied with a hiss, twisting the other's arm hard.

"Somehow I doubt that they will believe you rather than me."

Yanking the man, the two of them disappeared into a back street.

Forcing the assassin around to face the front, the wood-elf dragged him uncaringly forward, until they left the crowds of people behind and Aragorn's voice faded to a murmur. Ducking in a dingy looking alley way a couple of streets away, Legolas thrust his captive in.

"Why are you trying to kill King Elessar? Who put you up to this?" Legolas asked in a foreboding tone. Twirling the man around in one sure movement, the elf slammed him up against the wall with a loud thud. Shoving the other's legs apart, he placed his own in-between and crushed the man's arms up against the wall, effectively hindering the man from much movement.

"I am not going to ask again," Legolas growled as the man remained silent before smashing him up against the wall again with enough force to break his noise as the man moved suddenly, bucking in an attempt to escape. "Stay still!"

"You do not-," the man hissed back, his voice thick through the blood now streaming from both nostrils. Abruptly bringing his head back, the assassin whammed it into Legolas' face.

The elf automatically jerked, his hands releasing their tight hold just long enough for the man to wrench free. He purposefully fell backwards, crashing into the elf and sending them both staggering back into a pile of crates that lined the wall. The boxes splintered and cracked under their combined weight and the uppermost one toppled over, sending its contents of dead fish, along with their foul smell, to slap roughly against the stone as well as the elf and the man.

Legolas, who had landed on bottom, took a wheezing breathe and attempted to ignoring the sharp pain in his back from the wood. Getting his legs under him, he kicked the man full in the chest with enough force to send him crashing down the ground a few feet away. Stumbling upright, Legolas launched himself at the downed man, his fist raised.

The human scrambled back, only to find himself backup against the wall with nowhere to go. Thrusting a hand into his inside tunic pocket, he gripped a small knife. It was hardly the length of his hand, but it would suit his purpose. The prince's fist slammed into his face and he saw stars as his head hit the rough stone and brick of the wall.

Doubling over with pain, he slipped the knife into his fist, clenching it with enough force to cut circulation from his fingers.

Legolas had also drawn his knife, but in contrast to the human, he had flipped his over so he was holding the sharp end and the handle was down. He meant to only stun, not to kill. Lunging forward once more, the elf raised the blade.

Surging up, the man and Legolas meet in a clash of bodies. Jamming his weapon down, the man felt it pierce flesh and smiled. A moment later the elf's knife slammed into his head and he fell forward, stunned from the hard blow.

Legolas let a small gasp leave his lips as icy pain flared through his upper thigh where the knife had stuck him. Landing on one knee next to the sprawled man he hissed. Looking down at the small weapon embedded in his flesh, he yanked it out with one swift, sure, movement. The man next to him moaned softly as he began to come back to his senses and Legolas smiled. A small wound was a small price to pay for the capture of the man.

Getting awkwardly to his feet to knock the man out for good, Legolas cursed as his leg buckled and scent him crashing back to the ground. Something was wrong, his leg should not have given out like that. Cursing again, he staggered back upright. The knife clutched in his hand dropped from his suddenly numb fingers and fell to the ground with a clatter as his vision began to blur. His back thumped against the crates and he leaned on them for support with gritted teeth. His leg was locking up and refusing to carry his weight despite his urgent need to use it.

The man slowly picked himself up from off the earth, his breathing harsh and haggard as he swiped at the blood adoring in his face. Legolas felt the first dregs of fear prick his heart as the man smiled cruelly down at him, feeling like he was missing something drastically important.

Stopping a few feet in front of the prince, who was clutching to the wood in an attempt to stay up right, the assassin bent down to face level.

"You lose," he whispered with contempt.

Legolas shook his head like a dog, trying to get anything to focus, but everything was growing fuzzy and the man's face swirled in front of his eyes despite his best efforts. A ring of black had grown around the edge of his vision as his wound flared with agony. It pulsed along with his heartbeat and together the two began to drown out all else. The elf frowned as the distorted figure leaned in and tried to pull away but he couldn't tell if his body was doing its part. The man's lips moved oddly, sending one word echoing faintly in the back of the elf's mind.

"Poison."

And then everything went black and all he knew was that he had failed Aragorn.

TBC...

 **Well, that started out with a bang... If you were by a small, small, chance missing my cliffies then there is a gift to you. :)**

 **Just a note, I will post sometime next week but it might be Wednesday or Saturday instead of Friday. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Aren't you glad I love you guys enough not to make you wait until next Friday for an update? :)**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Two

The man, Madoc by name, stared down at the unconsciousness figure at his feet with disgust. The elf lay in a heap on the ground, dead fish and blood surrounding him. He wasn't bound to wake until much, much, later. The poison he had used on the blade was a strong sleeping draft and only fatal in very large douses.

Digging the toe of his boot into the elf's unprotected side, the assassin flipped him over. The question now was what to do with him…he could kill him, but maybe the elf could play a better use to them. Sighing in exasperation at the new problem, Madoc reached down and heaved the limp body upright. Before he made any major decisions he needed to consult with Dirhéal, the man who had hired him. He would have to hide the elf until then.

Dragging the elf roughly to the side, he threw him unceremoniously over the edges of the now ruined crates and began to stack the salvageable ones in front. Hopefully, no one would give it a second glance. It looked normal, except for the fish scattered at the bottom. Curling his lips in disgust, Madoc gathered them up also and tossed them over to join the elf.

Wiping his hands on his breaches, he stepped back, admiring his handy work. It was very good if he did say so himself. Turning his back, he straightened his tunic and took out a handkerchief, beginning to dab the blood from his rapidly swelling face. When he felt he was presentable, he merged back into the crowds of people who where steaming from the courtyard, the king's address obviously now over.

 _Too bad._ Madoc thought sourly. He could have perhaps had a chance to finish the job, but now it was far too late. Trying to blend in, he headed towards the dungeon, where Dirhéal was waiting.

NOFINERFRIENDS

" _What_ happened?" Dirhéal snapped, his already red face growing redder with anger as his eyes began to spark with a fury that would have caused many to quake in their boots.

"I told you," the assassin retorted back, his face calm as he crossed his arms and gave the other man a hard look. The two were sitting down at a filthy table, two mugs of ale resting in their hands. The pair where located in the dungeons of Minas Tirith, where Dirhéal had been stationed as the overseeing authority and guard for many years. It was the perfect place for the two conspires to meet, for no one would think to look for criminals there.

"Tell me again," the guard urged, taking a deep swallow of his ale as he kept a steady glare on his companion over the rim of his mug.

"An elf caught me. We fought. I stabbed with my blade. He is now out cold in an ally, along with several dead fish," Madoc replied in a board tone, flicking a bug off the table with his forefinger and thumb.

"Well, what do we do with him?!" Dirhéal bluntly asked, tipping his chair back on two legs.

"How would I know, he is your problem, not mine!" the assassin reminded coldly. The two sat in stony silence until Dirhéal suddenly set up straighter, stroking his dark beard in excitement.

"This, this elf would most likely be a friend of the king, right?" He plowed on before the other man had time to reply. "That so called king highly values elves, he married one! The idiot. That is not the point, though, the point is that he would pay a great deal of money for such a person."

Madoc grinned slyly, catching onto the other's plan.

"A great deal of money indeed." He tipped his own mug back all the way to hide his ever growing smile. Money was sometimes hard to come by in his profession and he would never turn down the large amounts of money that they were talking about. "Only we should wait. Let the king get worried and frantic over the loss of his friend. If his friend magically appears after appearing dead, then he will be willing to pay twice the money that he would have before," the assassin stated, watching his financier intently as the man thought it over.

"And after we receive the money, they can both experience an unfortunate and entirely unconnected death." Dirhéal grinned happily at the thought and nodded his head. "And this land will be free of that poor excuse for a king. Denethor was a better ruler, even if he did turn a little in the mind before the end."

The other man merely shrugged; he didn't get involved in politics.

"The problem is where are we going to keep him until the king is deemed fit to gather the most money?" he asked, running a hand through his fair, well kept, hair.

The man opposite him stood with a knowing grin, "Follow me," he demanded as he snatched a lighted lantern from the nearby hook. Madoc also got to his feet, following the light bobbing up and down as they moved further into the dungeon. For more than ten minutes they walked through the well-light hallways (The king new king had always demanded that they keep the cells in a civilized condition) until they reached the dead end of the last hallway.

"What–?" Madoc began but Dirhéal cut him off with an annoyed shush.

"Just watch!" he said, pressing his finger tips against the wall and pushing with all his might. The veins on his neck stood out and the arm muscle's stained, but then the wall began to move. It swung inward and showed them a pitch black, forbidding looking entrance. Madoc stood there with his mouth hanging open as he gazed at the doorway with shock.

"How in the name did you do know…" the assassin cried, turning with wide eyes to face his companion, who swelled with importance.

"I've been guarding this prison for a very, very, long time. I found this by accident one day." He began to walk, forcing Madoc to keep pace with him or be left behind. After they had passed through, Dirheal slammed the hidden door shut. Everything but the flickering torch was cast into complete blackness and it took their eyes a few minutes to adjust. When the assassin's eyes found the path, he cried out, falling back against the damp wall.

"It is not safe!" he hissed, noticing the many crumbling stones and rotten wood that supported their weight. As if to agree with him, the floor groaned and shifted slightly, making the assassin clutch the wall.

"Yes, it is," Dirhéal replied impatiently, striding over and grabbing the other's arm and pulling him none to gently forward. "They won't clasp."

"But they might!" Madoc insisted, his tone turning shrill, "I mean, what if they did. They would…no, no, there is no way you are getting me to gone down those!" the assassin moaned, growing pale as the small circle of light suddenly revealed a rickety staircase that descended into the darkness once more.

Dirhéal paused, tilting his head back with a sigh, "Come one, you coward!" he growled, starting the down the stairs. "There are cells below. I think it must have been another part of the prison before everyone forgot about it."

Madoc froze, his eyes narrowing at the insult. Taking a breath, he quickly moved forward and down the first three stairs, catching up with Dirhéal, "I'm no coward," he growled with anger, but Dirhéal paid him no mind.

When they reached the bottom, they discovered that it was flooded, the floor coated with at least half a foot of icy water.

"It is always flooded down here, probably why they abandoned it in the first place," the guard remarked, holding his light aloft so that it cast its ghostly light on everything in a five foot radius."The cells are down that way, "he added, pointing to his right.

Madoc nodded and stepped eagerly off the stairs, glad to have his feet back on firm ground even if they were now covered in dirty water that was cold enough to make him shiver, "Do we have a lock and a key for the door?" he asked causally, stopping at the first cell they came too and leaning over to examine the rusting bars.

"We can replace the lock, until then we can keep him tied up," Dirhéal replied, raising the light higher for the assassin. The smithy would not think it odd at all for him to request a new lock and key, he had done it often enough before for other cells that had needed it.

Madoc turned back to face him and a slow smile began to creep across his lips that, combined with the eerie lightening and already creepy conditions, almost made Dirhéal want to back a step down, but he stood firm.

"We have a special guest to care for," the assassin whispered gleefully.

NOFINERFRIENDS

"You stuck him a pile of sticking fish?!" Dirhéal question with disgust as he helped move the crates behind which the hopefully still slumbering elf was concealed.

"Be quieter," Madoc rebuked, reaching behind the crate and pushing the slimy creatures off their prisoner. "Help me with him," he grunted, jerking his head to the side in frustration. The bigger man nodded and reached over, yanking the lighter elf easily upright. The elf's eyelids flickered and then went still, his head lolling backwards. Dirhéal shook him and his head flopped forward, now resting against his chest. The elf groaned, his body tensing, and the man holding him upright let him go with alarm like he had been shocked by the movement.

"He's waking up, Madoc!" he said urgently and, Madoc was glad to hear, with fear.

"That is all right," the assassin reminded him, catching the elf before he hit the ground and pulling him back up. He swung the elf's limp arm over one of his shoulders and motioned for the solider to do the same, "We simply follow the story. It will make no difference if he is awake or not because at the beginning he will be too groggy to do much."

"Right…" Dirhéal said with hesitation, stepping forward and also sliding under an arm so that the blonde haired elf was supported between them, "You and the elf are just merchants. He had too much to drink and I saw the two of you," he muttered to himself, repeating the story one more time just in case in a moment of panic he forgot it, "I offered to help you get him to his rooms."

"Correct, now hurry up," Madoc commanded, starting the walk down with the elf sandwiched between the two of them.

All went smoothly for them and their story held true for them whenever anyone asked if they needed help.

Legolas stirred frequently as they neared the dungeons, low moans filtering out between his lips, and they picked up their pace. As soon they entered the welcoming coolness of the prison, Dirhéal turned and smashed his fist up against the elf's temple. Legolas went limp once more and they continued on to the hidden staircase.

They left him tied securely in what must have been the deepest part of Minas Tirith.

NOFINERFRIENDS

Legolas stirred, his mind foggy with pain and drugs. Something had been wrong…something to do with Aragorn…and another man, he didn't remember his name. Perhaps he didn't know it.

Groaning, Legolas forced his heavy eyelids open, realizing slowly that his pounding headache wasn't the only source of pain. There was a burning, fiery, agony in his upper thigh and the strong, salty smell of blood filled his nostrils, making him want to gag.

A smug face filtered into his blurred his vision and as it slowly came into focus, Legolas realized with a start that it was that man, the man he didn't know the name of.

"Who…" he slurred, before stopping as his head gave a nasty throb. Gritting his teeth together, Legolas just managed to stop a moan of pain.

"So you are awake, princess," the man sneered and laughed loudly when Legolas looked confused. "Cut that hair of yours and people might not mistake you for girl," he teased cruelly tugging at the blonde locks.

This action seemed to jerk Legolas further into reality and he convulsed, trying to back away from the man. Unfortunately, his hands where bound to a length of rope that was suspended from the grimy ceiling and he was unable to move. His toes where just able to touch the floor, but he couldn't feel them. They were numb from the cold, icy water that rose to just below his knees.

The man laughed again at the elf's panic and turned his back, walking to the door and picking up the only light, which came from a flickering torch. As he began to pull away, leaivng the elf in the shadows, he began to sing softly, "Good night, sleep tight, and don't let the rats bite."Turning his back, the man and slammed the old, rotting, door with pleasure.

Legolas jerked hard at his bound wrist, striving to reach him even from his bonds as everything suddenly come flooding back.

"Why'd you try 'd kill Estel!" he snarled, his tongue struggling to form the words correctly.

The man paused and looked back, now unable to see the elf through the dark, "You will just have wonder about that, won't you?" he called. He left, leaving the elf all alone in the pitch blackness.

After the echoing footsteps had faded from sound, Legolas let his head slip back to rest against his bound arms and let a low groan leave his lips. His wrist strained once more against the rope, but it held firm and the elf drew in a sharp breath, moaning again.

His body hurt, especially his leg, and the deep seated thrill of panic that was shooting through his system wasn't helping. Closing his eyes, he tried to examine his situation.

He was stuck here, wherever here was, and there didn't seem to be an immediate chance of getting out. Aragorn thought he was going to Ithilien and wouldn't know that anything was wrong. His second in command at Ithilien would be furious when he didn't arrive on time, but would most likely assume that he had stayed on with Aragorn without sending a note, or that his travels had been slowed for some reason. He wouldn't worry for a week at least, maybe more. If he had to be honest with himself, then Legolas knew it could easily be weeks before someone realized that he was missing.

By then, he had the darkest feeling that he would be dead.

TBC...

 **Oh... oh, dear. Legolas is _not_ in a good situation. :) Hehehe.**

 **Review Replies:**

 **Nameless:** No, no he can not! Not in a million years. If he simply gets out of bed he gets into trouble. :) Well, he is not dead yet and they want a ransom so that means for a little while at least he will stay alive. Thanks!

 **LOTCR:** Just a bit of a bang.:) Legolas got really, really stinking close to saving the day! Oh, Legolas, next time just be a little more careful... HAHA! I love my cliffies! (As you just *might* have noticed.) Thanks so much!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N I can not tell you glad I am that the weekend is finally here! It is has been one looong week.**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Three

Aragorn kicked his chair back, propping one foot up on the wooden desk as he twirled a quill effortlessly in his right hand. Small droplets of ink went flying in all directions, but the man seemed to neither notice nor care. The desk was organized neatly with parchment and several important looking documents that cared various seals, many of which where his own.

A sharp knock sounded against the door and Aragorn glanced up, letting the chair crash back to the ground as he hastily took his boot of the desk. "Come in!" he called, brushing at some of the dirt that was now scattered across the papers. A young boy pushed open the door, clutching something tightly in his trembling hand.

He was clearly nervous to be in front of the king and Aragorn smiled gently at him, trying to put him at ease. _This boy should be glad that I have more sense than my brothers,_ he reflected, before speaking, "Yes," he prompted.

The boy stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, before snapping to attention with astounding speed.

"Your highness," he managed to say, "Mast Darid from the messengers asked me to bring this to you." He held forth a crisp white envelope that, when Aragorn took it, bared the Ithilien seal. "Since Lord Legolas isn't here, he figured you would be the best person to deliver it too."

Aragorn nodded, his surprise growing as he flipped the letter over and found Legolas' name indeed printed neatly in the middle with black ink.

"Thank you, you may go," the king said, smiling the boy out the door. Frowning he glanced back down at the note as he put his feet back up on the desk, before shrugging. Legolas and the letter had probably crossed pathways mid-way between Ithilien and Minas Tirith. It was more than likely the letter simply contained directions for Legolas to get his royal hide back to the colony, anyway.

Throwing the letter onto the desk, Aragorn went back to what he had been doing, thinking and twirling.

When the second letter came almost a week later, Aragorn was befuddled. He could understand one letter crossing paths with Legolas, but two! Shaking his head the man searched his desk, looking for the first letter that had been shuffled around and lost. When he finally found it, stuffed between two books and a stack of papers about the men in his service, he stood, hurrying off to find his most trusted adviser.

He found Arwen in their private sitting rooms, trying to convince an overly energetic Eldarion to settle down so that he could take his nap.

"Daddy!" the boy squealed, wriggling free of his mother and running into his father's outstretched arms.

"Come here!" Aragorn called, grabbing him up and spinning him around as the child screamed in delight.

"Aragorn!" Arwen cried pleadingly "I'm trying to calm him down!" Aragorn grimaced jokingly at his young son, who giggled and settled in his arm. The king threw a truly apologetic look at his wife, making her smile.

"Mommy wants me to take a nap, but I'm not tired!" the child explained, placing his hands on his father's face and turning his head towards him so that his attention was focused solely on him. He stuck out his lower lips and widened his eyes, blinking. Aragorn smiled down at him, trying not to laugh.

"You will do what your mother tells you to do," he stated, ruffling his dark, and rather unruly hair.

"But I don't want too!" Eldarion wailed, tears building up in his innocent grey eyes.

"But you get too," Aragorn said firmly, putting him back down, "Now run to your room and either your mother or I will be along shortly. To your room, nowhere else, do you understand?" Eldarion nodded, wiping at his face and Aragorn grinned down at him. Swatting him playfully, he watched as his son dragged his feet towards the door, which he slammed behind him.

Turning back to face Arwen, his smile faltered. "Can I talk to you?" he asked, coming to sit in the chair opposite hers.

"Of course," she answered, scanning his face intently. Sighing, he handed her the two letters and quickly explained what had happened.

"You don't think that he is in trouble, do you?" he asked anxiously when he had finished. Arwen didn't answer right away, her still ageless face thoughtful.

"I don't know," she answered honestly looking up at her husband.

"Because if he is, then it has been two weeks, and that greatly decreases survival odds…" he trailed off, not needing to say how little of a chance of survival Legolas had if he had been seriously hurt out in the wild. Arwen sighed and stood, prompting Aragorn to quickly follow suit.

"Write a letter to Ithilien," she urged, "Make sure that Legolas really is in any danger before you do drastic." Taking his hand in hers, she squeezed it tightly, gazing into his deeply worried eyes.

Aragorn opened his mouth, "But…" he began, but she shushed him softly.

"We can not do much until we know what is happening. If it makes you feel better, than send a couple of men out to search." Smiling up at him, she kissed him lightly and turned to leave.

Aragorn stood still for a minute, pondering her words as he tapped the letters against his palm before quickly leaving. He would compose a letter to Legolas' second in command and would indeed send men out. It was better to be safe than sorry, as he and Legolas and learned many times over in his youth.

Pacing through the gardens on his way to his study, the king never noticed a burly guard and a well dressed man standing next to each other, talking. Their eyes never left the king, however.

NOFINERFRIENDS

Another week and a half passed had passed when the third letter from Ithilien arrived, this time with Aragorn's name on it.

The king hardly waited until the door had swung shut before ripping the letter open, positively shaking with eagerness. Maybe everything was all right; maybe the letters had just been some huge misunderstanding. His worry and fears had been nagging at him, refusing to let him have any peace of mind. Unrolling the parchment, the former ranger's stomach dropped a notch. The note was not written in Legolas' familiar, gracefully, and neat handwriting, but rather a bold, unfamiliar hand. Pushing his chair back on two legs, he quickly scanned the letter, his face blanching with every word in the short note.

 _King Elessar,_

 _You mean to tell me that Lord Legolas has already left Minas Tirith, in fact left more than three weeks ago?! Legolas is not in Ithilien, I assumed that he stayed longer than planned._

 _Needless to say I am extremely worried. I have elves out searching as I write, and will update you on any news I receive and would appreciate it if you would do the same._

Aragorn lowered the letter, his face now white like newly fallen snow. Legolas had been missing for, if he had done his calculations correct, almost a month. A month!

Standing, he gripped the desk tightly, feeling faint. His heart was pounding with what was surly unnatural speed and everything began to blur in front of his eyes. A month was a long time to survive. If he had been seriously injured, or taken captive by orcs...Shaking his head vigorously, he took three long strides to the door and yanked it open. Breaking into a run, he headed towards Faramir's office. He needed a bigger search party then what he had out right now and he would personally oversee it. He needed to find out what had happened before it was too late for his friend, if it wasn't already.

NOFINERFRIENDS

Madoc watched the king carefully out of the corner of his eye, pretending to be interested in a stall of finely woven, and rather expensive, cloth. He was in the market street that sprouted directly off one of the large courtyards, the one that would provide the quickest pathway to exit Minas Tirith. The king appeared there not ten minutes ago, dressed in grab that was surprisingly dirty and drab.

The ranger turned king was pacing back and forth in obvious agitation as his forehead creased in a permanent frown. Normally, he would have taken the time to talk to one of the many guards that surrounded him, but today it didn't appear as if he could even see them, so lost in his worry was he.

The assassin smirked to himself, moving off to another stall closer to Aragorn. He was almost positive that he knew what the king was concerned over and it made his day. He had begun to think that the king really had no clue whom the elf was and that the elf was merely someone who was very patriotic, as the king had not noted his absence for so long. But if the panic on the man's face was any indication, then they had been right all along.

Picking up a priceless vase, he peered closely at it, his smiling widening as he heard Aragorn give a muffled exclamation, followed by an exasperated sigh. It was accompanied by the sound of many hooves and Madoc allowed himself to swing around as many of people nearby let out sounds of awe.

A dozen or so soldiers in shinning amour and on fine steeds where parading into the courtyard. The king looked especially...normal along side them and Madoc wondered why he had chosen those cloths. They didn't make him appear anymore powerful, nor were they necessary, for a king had all the tailors he could want. Normally, kings wore much finer clothes for the simplest task. But, then again, this was no normal king.

The leader of the men on the horses, the son of the late lord, pulled up to a halt next to the king and leaned down. He passed over the reins of a beautiful chestnut horse and after exchanging a few soft words, the king swung atop, his famous sword swinging at his side.

Madoc watched the group of men ride past and grinned. It amused him that they were going in the wrong direction and didn't even know it. Turning, he placed the vase back down and began to weave through the crowd.

It minutes, he was arriving at the dungeon's door.

"Is Dirhéal in?" he asked the young guard who was assigned to Dirheal. The younger man knew nothing of their secret and Dirhéal had allowed him to have several days off to be with his wife, who had just given birth. The man knew that Madoc was an 'old friend' of Dirhéal's who was visiting, but that was it. He was kept out of the way by Dirhéal stationing him in the front where he wouldn't be a bother to them.

"Yes, he should be," the young man answered, pulling open the door.

"Thank you." Madoc brushed past him and into the dimmer room. Once the door was shut behind him, he called out Dirhéal's name. When no response was heard, he sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. He knew right where the other man was and he began to make his way towards the back of the prison.

"Dirhéal! I've got news!" he shouted again, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to go all the way down to the prisoner to find the man. As it turned out, he was lucky and didn't have too.

"Coming!" the man hollered back in his deep voice and Madoc sighed in relief, dropping into one of the chairs next to the table that made up the guard's corner.

A minute later, the traitor appeared, huffing from the long climb up the rickety stairs, and stocked towards the assassin, exclaiming as he did so, "What news is this?" Reaching the table he dropped heavily into one of the chairs, causally flinging his blood speckled horse whip onto the wooden surface. Madoc gave the weapon a look of distaste, but chose not to comment on it at the moment.

"The king has finally realized that something is wrong." he stated, eagerness trickling back into his voice and leaned forward, his chest also heaving with excitement.

"Was he crazed with panic?" Dirhéal asked scooting to the edge of his seat and clasping his hands together.

"Just like a mother who has lost her child," Madoc answered, suddenly frowning as the other man excitedly pushed his oily dark hair away from his face and left a streak of blood in its place. The blood was clearly not Dirhéal's, however. Leaning forward he spoke in a rushed tone, his excitement draining out of him faster than a jack rabbit could run. "You're pushing him too hard. We can't collect a ransom if he is dead."

"He is perfectly fine! Well, maybe not, but he will live." Dirhéal scoffed waving away the other man's worry. "Besides since when do you care? Does blood bother you? Strange element for an assassin…" he sniggered, the insult barely veiled.

Madoc sneered in returned his eyes darkening in anger. "If you kill him, then you will pay double for my services…" he left the statement hanging, knowing that his the other man knew what he meant.

"Relax, Madoc," Dirhéal said after an uneasy pause. "Listen, I promise not to give that elf more than he can handle. But he is still our guest for a little longer, so I don't see what point there is in not 'entertaining' him."

Madoc nodded, though his hard eyes told Dirhéal that if he didn't deliver the elf and get a hefty ransom, then Madoc wouldn't have a problem about dipping his hand in Dirhéal's savings, through form of the money paid by the kingdom to Dirhéal's family if he was too die.

"Did you finish the letter?" he asked coldly. Dirheal nodded, a sly grin parting his lips. "And do you know how you are going to deliver it without giving us away?"

"I could mail it... or we could cause more terror in their lives."

Madoc sneered at the man. Once this job was over and all the money owed him was packed safely away, then he would be out of here. Dirheal's was no friend of his.

"You are sickening. Causing a quick death is one thing, but I can not understand your love for needless pain."

"You just don't have the stomach for that kind of thing, because you are weak." Dirheal picked up his whip, coiling and uncoiling it casually as it was no small matter that blood was dripping steadily from it and covering his hands. "If you want out, now is your chance. You just don't get any of the money.

Madoc laughed softly, "Money is the only reason I am still here. It certainly isn't for your lovely company. But what are you planning, Dirheal? I want to know in case it is something stupid."

"The king's son. He has no fears and is often escaping from those who watch over him." Dirheal left the statement hanging, his grin growing.

The assassin sat up straighter, holding up a hand. "We aren't killing him, Dirheal. I would kill any man or women you asked as long as you payed money, but I _will_ draw the line at kids."

Dirheal's face fell slightly. "I thought you might say that. You are soft. In that case, I guess," the excitement had drained out of his voice and Madoc again wondered what was wrong with this man. "I guess we could give him the letter, telling him to deliver it to his father. It will still give them a shock that we are close enough to their family to have personally interacted with his son."

Madoc nodded once, agreeing. That plan actually wasn't too bad, he admitted to himself.

TBC...

 **Oh, well... Aragorn at least knows that Legolas is missing. That is an improvement, right... :)**

 **Review Replies**

 **Nameless:** Well, he is at least still alive if not in perfect condition. I think Legolas just lives permanently in trouble and it is a rare moment when he isn't. He is amazing, that is for sure. I love my Legolas. ;) No problem! I am sorry that you had to wait for the update, though... :( But now you have it! :) Thanks!

 **Guest:** *sigh* Another round lost to grammar and spelling... They are like my big bully who will never leave me alone. :) Someday, someday, I will win! Thanks, though, for pointing it out! I will do my best to do better and feel free to continue to point stuff like that out, I really do appreciate it. :) There may be a day when the LotR fandom will die, but it is not this day! Nor will it ever come as long as I am around. :) Thanks again!

 **LOTCR:** Haha! When crazy fangrils are around, you had better run as fast as you can because if they are after you, they *will* get you no matter the cost. But Madoc and Dirheal deserve it. Aragorn is alive, but it doesn't sound like Legolas is doing so good. At least Aragorn is know aware of what is happening...sort of. I mean, he is headed off in the totally wrong direction but at least he knows that Legolas is missing. ;) Thanks!

 **ElvenPrincess:** Haha! Yes, shout as loud as you can, maybe he will listen to us then! ;) Well, I am happy that you found it now. :) There certainly ins't very many post-WOTR fics, so I though I would try my hand at it. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Well, Legolas is back in this chapter, for a short moment, just as you all wanted. :) Thank you all so very much for all your lovely reviews. They make my day! :)**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Four

Legolas was lost, lost in the neverending darkness. That was all he knew as the days and the nights blended into one seemingly endless round. He hated it. Hated it more than his tormentors, more than pain that seemed to be fused into his very being and, if it was possible, more than the being underground. All he wanted was to have even a glimmer of light, even it was just a the seize of a thumbnail, he would take it.

If he had just a little light, then he knew that he would last until Aragorn came. And Aragorn was coming, he was as sure of that as he was of his own name. The man would figure out what had happened, he just had to give him time. Once the king did, then Legolas knew that he would search high and low for him. He wouldn't stop.

Picturing the man's face in the darkness, the elf relaxed back in his chains that held him securely against any attempt of escape he had tried and closed his eyes as he concentrated on nothing but his friend. The pain and cold that he was suffering from bled off into the back of his mind. His eyes began to drop lower, and lower. It wasn't long until Legolas lost hold of the small thread he had on consciousness and his head sagged forward to rest against his chest.

The elf was no healer. He didn't know that his heart was pounding far to fast for its own good. He didn't know that his temperature had also dropped low enough to be a major concern, or that his skin had taken a deadly ashen color to it. He didn't recognize the blue color of his fingers or significance of the fact that he had lost feeling in them long ago. He didn't realize that the water around him was stained pink form his blood.

He didn't comprehend the fact that he was edging ever closer to death. He was holding so fast to his belief that Aragorn would find him and save him that he couldn't see that he might not be around that much longer for Aragorn to save.

NOFINERFRIENDS

The rain that had been threatening overhead for the past, miserable, week was finally been let loose and poured down in a thick sheet. It was the eighth day of Aragorn's search and his spirits where low. In fact, they were almost none existent.

The man glared up darkly at the sky, wondering if the elements had simply decided to add to his misery, just for the fun of it. A soft cough to his left his left made the king twist in the saddle, turning to face Faramir who was riding next to him.

"Aragorn," the other man started off loudly to be heard over the storm. "We should seek shelter before the weather gets any worse!"

The king heaved a breath, gazing out at the empty landscape as the cold rain began to dampen his tunic, having soaked through his coat. Legolas was out there somewhere…

Faramir nudged him back to reality as he touched his shoulder gently, his own eyes caring their sorrow.

"Send a scout out and see what he can find," Aragorn replied dully, raising his voice to be heard over a clap of thunder. One of the soldiers from behind him heard the words and spoke up, riding forward to be on the other side of the king as he spoke, "My cousin lives not too far from here, I am sure that he would be delighted, or at least willing, to give us shelter for the night as well as a warm meal."

Aragorn nodded slowly, pushing his soaked hair out of his eyes. "We would very much appreciate that. Ride on ahead and give them warning."

As they rode through the thickening rain, Faramir watched his king, but more importantly friend, carefully. Aragorn was weighed down by the arduous burden of hopelessness that caused the normally proud and straight shoulders to slump and the depressed gleam to enter his bright eyes.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on his lieges shoulder and whispered soft enough for only the man to hear, "Don't give up hope. We are doing all we can to find Legolas, as are the elves."

Aragorn snorted, turning to face away from his steward.

"There was never any real hope of finding him, not after a month," he said in an oddly chocked voice. "Any clues of what could have happened to him have long since been erased by Mother Nature. They only way we will finding him is if we happened to stumble across his dead body."

"Legolas is resourceful, he can look after himself," Faramir encouraged after a moment of stunned silence. He had never seen his friend like this, and it scared him. Aragorn still wouldn't turn to look at him and the younger man sighed.

Suddenly Aragorn's horse, lifted his head excitedly, a low nicker leaving its mouth. Aragorn reached down subconsciously and patting the warm neck, still lost in his own thoughts. Up ahead, however, came a sound that jolted the man through the core as an achingly familiar sounding horse replied to his.

"I know that horse," Aragorn whispered, allowing the anima to jump forward anxiously, his own face full of disbelief. Faramir quickly kicked his own horse, Daisy, into a run to keep with his liege as he tried to quell the rising storm of hope in his chest. It was impossible, after all, wasn't it?

The two rounded the bend, followed by the other warriors, and abruptly pulled up to a stop. Before them was a shabby, but well kept, cottage with small family of five hurriedly trying to prepare for the unexpected visit from their King.

When they caught sight of their lord, the father and mother immediately dropped to deep bows, the mother motioning for the children to do the same.

"There is no need for that," Aragorn said softly, his eyes searching the nearby land, looking for Legolas' beautiful white horse who he could have sworn he had heard. "Please rise."

"Thank you, my lord, for gracing us with your presence at our most humble home," the patriarch of the family murmured, a plain man in even plainer clothes. "My wife is willing to fix a warm meal for you if you wish to wait. We had very little time to prepare…"

Aragorn swung off his horse, landing on the ground with a squelch as mud went spraying up to splatter his boots. Turning to face the farmer, he asked, "Do you have a horse here?"

The man looked confused, first glancing around the king and at his horse, before looking back to his wife and cousin for help.

"No, my lord, we don't _own_ a horse," he said nervously, "We have a mule and a cow…" Aragorn shook his head, repeating his question. The man nodded slowly in answer, "We did find a horse, about a month ago. I was one a week long trip and found him out there alone and uncared for. No one ever came to claim him, so he has been staying with us."

"Where are you keeping this horse?" Aragorn inquired, gesturing for the man to lead the way. Glancing back, he called over his shoulder, "Men, take advantage of the warmth of fire while you can. And be on your best behavior." Most of the men began to dismount and tie their horses to a nearby tree, feeding them before shuffling towards the house. Faramir, however, followed Aragorn through the rain and into an old, leaky, building that passed for a barn.

Inside stood Legolas' beautiful mare, tethered to a post like a common work animal, next to the cow and mule. The king stopped dead in his tracks and Faramir walked into him.

"Arod," Aragorn whispered as the horse let out an excited whinny and moved forward, straining against her restraint. Hurrying forward, the ranger unknotted the rope, letting her dig her nose into his shoulder. "Where is your master?" he asked the horse softly, rubbing at her soft ears.

"I swear I didn't steal her!" the peasant man defended, holding his hands up. Stealing was not tolerated in Aragorn's kingdom, and he was suddenly fearful of being pulled into something that he wasn't part of. Little did he know, however, that Arod would have escaped long ago if he had stolen him, or he would have gone wild over finding Aragorn, trying to warn him that something was wrong. The fact that she merely stood still, ears flickering back and forth, was a good sign for the farmer.

Aragorn turned to him, smiling gently to put him at ease as he replied, "I know you did not. In fact, I am in your debt for caring for Arod." Pausing, he took a breath and the smile slipped off his face. "You are sure you don't know anything at all about his master? He was an elf, golden hair…blue eyes, and dressed in green and brown. Tall."

The man shook his head, but went to retrieve a bag hanging from a nail, explaining as he did so, "This was on her," his voice dripping with relief that he wasn't about to punished for supposedly stealing. Aragorn took the bag eagerly and snapped it open only to look almost instantly back up at Faramir.

"It is Legolas'," he said, as though there had been any doubt that it was. Turning back to the farmer, he offered his thanks once more, before they all returned to the house.

Late that night, Aragorn remained awake and sitting at the small table. His eyes reflected the smoldering fire as he stared into his depths. The farmer had said that he had found Arod in the lower levels of the city. That made no sense whatsoever, for that would mean that Legolas was still in the city when he had disappeared. Yet, Arod would have surely caused a ruckus if Legolas had been in trouble, yet the farmer had said that the horse had appeared as if it had been merely waiting. The only thing he could come up with was that Legolas had told Arod to say put, but why?

It didn't make any sense. Shaking his head, the king leaned back and drew a long puff on his pipe. Maybe... maybe they had been looking the wrong direction all along. What if Legolas had never left the city, what if he was still there. Rising to his feet, Aragorn began to pace as his energy spiked. The city was the next place to start, for that was were it had all began.

The storm eased its fury over the night and Aragorn and his men left the house in good spirits the next morning, Arod in tow. Before he mounted, the king pressed a hefty bag of gold onto the farmer, "For taking care of Arod and giving us shelter," he insisted despite the man's protest.

NOFINERFRIENDS

Aragorn and the men of Gondor rode hard and fast the next day, pushing themselves and their horses to the limit. But night was descending when they at last rode through the high gates of Minas Tirith.

"Do you want me to walk up with you?" Faramir asked after they had taken care of their horses. They had all agreed that once dawn hit the next morning that they would be scouring Minas Tirith from top to bottom, but that for the moment they all needed to sleep. It was already late into the night and most of the lights in windows had been dosed and Aragorn saw a few more go out before he answered.

"You have Éowyn to go to. I'll be fine," he said wearily. Faramir nodded and they gave each a faint smile before turning in different directions to find their wives.

As Aragorn walked heavily up the steps that lead to his private rooms, a bundle of energy came running out to meet him, gripping him tightly around his legs.

"Ada! Your home! Is Uncle Legolas with you? Mommy said that he might be. Did you know…" Eldarion continued to rattle on, but Aragorn stopped paying attention. Reaching down, he scooped his child up and hugged him close to his chest, finding comfort in the small body as he buried his face into his shoulder's. He had failed Legolas, and Eldarion would be so devastated if Legolas was never to return...

"Daddy?" the young boy asked, "Ada?" he said louder when Aragorn didn't respond and only clutched him tighter, unable to find the words to explain his feelings.

"Aragorn? Aragorn, is that you?" Arwen's gentle voice called and from the corner of his eye the man caught sight of her outline, framed by the inside candles. And then she was next to him, wrapping her arms around him while laying her head on his shoulder. The family of three stood there together with the parents drawing strength from each other while Eldarion remained oblivious to the situation.

"Ada! What is going on?" the boy finally burst out, struggling to free himself from his father's tight grip.

"Uncle Legolas was unable to come." Arwen spoke for her husband, her own voice low with grief. Her unspoken questions were clear and Aragorn took a shaky breath before releasing Eldarion and setting him down.

"We think that he is in the city somewhere," he said softly, rubbing at his brow tiredly. "We know for a fact that whatever happened to him, happened here in Minas Tirith and assuredly on the same day that he left. He never made it out, Arwen. He never left and I didn't know."

"How could you have?" she instantly defended, but Aragorn only shook his head and made for the door.

"I'm going to see if anything strange or unusual was reported in the past month, go ahead and go to bed. I don't know how late I'll be." Arwen frowned at his back, but she knew full well that Aragorn wouldn't think of himself until Legolas had been found.

"Where is Daddy going?" Eldarion asked, tugging on her dress. Arwen sighed and leaned down so that they were face to face.

"Ada is trying to find information about where Uncle Legolas went. But it is long past your bed time." She went to pick him up, but the boy pushed her hands away.

"What kind of info…info,"

"—Information—"

"Does Ada need about Uncle Legolas?" The small boy had his face screwed up, thinking hard.

"I don't know. Anything, I suppose." She sighed, but smiled reassuringly at him, before standing and taking his small hand.

"Like a letter?"Eldarion voice was quiet, but there was a deadly seriousness to it that wasn't often there.

"Why?" she asked, looking down at him quizzically.

"A man gave me a letter a few days ago. He said that it was about Uncle Legolas."

"What do you mean? What man?!" Arwen asked sharply, stopping to stare at her young son. Eldarion's eyes grew wide at her tone,but before he could answer she raised her voice. "ARAGORN! I need you to hear this!"

The king who had disappeared from into the rooms appeared moments later looking ruffled and fearful, but before he could open his mouth, Arwen spoke.

"Eldarion said that a man approached him about Leoglas."

"When did this happen?!" Aragorn demanded, looking from his wife to his son. He crossed over to Eldarion and knelt in front of him, his eyes suddenly blazing as the weariness vanished.

"I- I don't who it was…" Eldarion whispered as he shrunk back, fearing he had done something wrong, "He just said that you would want it, and that it was about my Uncle." Aragorn gripped him tightly by the shoulders, his fingers digging into his flesh.

"Ada, st-"

"What did he say, Eldarion, I need the exact words. How did you meet him?!" He ordered in a harsh tone, his excitement and worry getting the better of him.

Eldarion began to whimper, his unease growing.

"I was just playing in the garden," he insisted, tears now pooling in his grey eyes. He snuffled loudly and looked up at his mother. When she nodded her encouragement, he continued, "He just s-stopped me and told me that Uncle Legolas would be coming home. He gave me a-a l-letter." Low sobs shook his body and he tried to pull away from Aragorn, whose face had lost all color.

"A letter! Where is the letter!" the man cried, the volume of his voice rising dramatically. When Eldarion didn't respond, only crying harder and wiping at his face with a grubby hand, Aragorn shook him urgently. "Tell me!" he nearly shouted, his emotions running out of control.

"Aragorn!" Arwen snapped harshly, her own face one of shock. Bending down she snatched her son free of her husband and bundled him up in her arms. Glaring reproachfully at Aragorn, who had the grace to look ashamed, she shushed her child softly. Eldarion was now crying raggedly and clutching at his mother. He didn't know what was happening. All he knew was that he seemed to be in some sort of trouble and that his daddy was mad.

"Let us take this conversation inside," Aragorn said after a minute, his voice back to normal and much calmer than before. Fear was still lanced through it. Closing the door behind him, Aragorn turned to face his son, who was still nestled tightly against Arwen.

"A man gave you a letter, correct?" he asked with forced calm. In reality, his heart was pounding so hard that it was hindering his breathing. Eldarion nodded mutely, before turning and burying his face in his mother's chest.

"Can I see it?" Aragorn asked gently.

Arwen hugged her baby closer to her heart, but added her plea as well, "It is very important that Ada sees the letter."

Eldarion looked up, before drawing closer and whispering, "It is in my room."

"Stay here, I will be right back," Aragorn commanded, springing to the door once more. Racing down the hallway, he slammed into the door of his son's room and stumbled in, the door banging off the opposite wall.

He didn't know where to look, the man realized, as he stopped abruptly and stood there with his hands on his hips. Where would a boy put something that he wanted to keep secure?

Crossing to the dresser, Aragorn pulled draw after draw out, dumping their contents on the ground as he searched for the letter. When this didn't yield any results he dropped to his stomach and began to inch under the bed.

Nothing of importance was under there, although he did find several of the boys missing toys, and he scooted back out. Dust and bits of fluff covered his dark hair and torso, but he didn't pay it any attention as he stood and picked his way through the now messy room to the closet. Ruffling through his son's clothes, he turned out all the pockets, his frown growing.

Finally, though, he saw it. Lying in the corner of the closet, carelessly tossed aside, was a yellowing envelope. His name was written in red ink with obviously faked handwriting in the center. Dropping to his knees with a cry, Aragorn grabbed it with shaky fingers and slit it open, his eyes flashing across the paper as he read.

 _It has come to our attention that you seem to have_ lost _something you dearly love. We may just have that which you lost, but, rather unfortunately, its care has cost us greatly. 1,000 coins in gold…or else that which you love will have to be disposed of._

 _The fifth day of the new month, in Dead Man's gorge. Leave the money on the large rock that sits in the center by dawn. The elf will be left in its stead. If any of your men stay, the elf_ will _be killed on the spot. This is your last chance to see your friend; you had better take advantage of it._

Below the letter was a large splatter of dry and congaed blood forming in the shape of a seal that Aragorn didn't know.

Sitting back on his heels, the man was threatened to be violently ill. Tonight was the night of the fifth. They had less than seven hours to gather the money, make the hour ride to Dead Man's gorge, and at least start back…Aragorn stood shakily, holding to the wooden frame for support. Legolas was going to die unless they came up with a plan and fast.

TBC...

 **Uh-oh... Well, actually, you guys are use to Legolas almost dying so I am sure that this is nothing new to you. ;)**

 **Review Replies:**

 **LOTCR:** Haha! Of course you got them! They underestimated the power of a fan girl, and now they will pay the price. :) Now you have Aragorn on the right path! Good for you! He really, really, shouldn't be surprised after all. :) *accepts offering* I will indeed take and enjoy! Thanks so much!

 **Bella:** Why isn't "Merlin" still around? *sigh* Well, they are still looking for Legolas, though methinks that they are slowly getting closer. :) I love whump as well, and h/c both are extremely fabulous! At least you now know what happened to the horse! Ah, yes, my arch enemy: spelling. One day, one day I will gain the upper hand against it...but it is not this day. Thank goodness that spell check catches most things. ;) Thanks!

 **Guest:** I will indeed have a new chapter every week! Every Friday you can look forward to an update from me, unless something happens, but that is rare. :) Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N I cannot help but mention Sir Christopher Lee, who has many of you more than likely know, passed away. He was the best Saruman any of us could have asked for and a good human being. Thank you, for being awesome.**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine.**

Chapter Five

Though it was late into the night, the candles in the King's study burned bright. Faramir, Éowyn, Arwen (who was cuddling a sleeping Eldarion), Aragorn and other various members of the King's Counsel were gathered, picking their brains desperately for a plan.

"Two hours," Faramir said tersely after a long pause in the conversation. He had been staring out the window into the dark sky, noting the passing of time. They had two hours to think of a plan before leaving for the gorge.

Aragorn closed his eyes, panic beginning to set lower and lower in the pit of his stomach, but he continued to pace. "We need money," he said, not for the first time. The royal treasurer, a large man, sighed and repeated the words he had been saying all night.

"We do not have that large of an amount, not currently, and we could never collect it in time."

"Then an ambush," Éowyn stated in exasperation, rubbing at her temples as she leaned forward in her seat. They were going in one endless circle and the end wasn't anywhere in sight. Arwen pointed out that they were most likely watching the trade off area and that it would be too difficult for a surprise attack without getting Legolas killed.

"But it is the only way!" the shield maiden of Rohan cried, "We don't have the money, that is all that there is too it. They not just going to give Legolas back if we walk up and ask extra politely, telling them that we have no money."

"You have a point," Aragorn murmured, shaking his unruly mess of hair out his eyes. Once again they trailed off into silence.

"One hour and forty minutes," Faramir quietly said, once again being the breaker of the silence. Eldarion stirred at the sound, but drifted right back off, his thumb stuck securely in his mouth.

"What –what if we attack from behind," Éowyn asked hesitantly, her eyes unfocused as she gazed into the fire. "They will not watch their back as intently."

"They will kill Legolas before we could get close," Aragorn said dully, his stomach clenching tightly as he spoke. He was going to lose his best friend and there didn't appear much he could do about it.

"I think it is our best shot," Faramir insisted, his brow furrowing, "We don't have much time. We have to act." He looked around the room, meeting their eyes steadily.

"We can discuss the finer points on the way there," Éowyn agreed, jumping up and crossing to the door. Faramir looked to Aragorn, and when his king nodded, he hurried after his wife. Others began to file from the room to prepare and Aragorn turned to his wife.

"I do not know when we will be back," he whispered, allowing Arwen to read the pain and desperation in his eyes. They were scrambling at straws and he knew it. It was an act of pure desperation, but she smiled confidently, leaning forward and kissing him lightly.

"I will be here waiting," she whispered. He brushed his hand along Eldarion's small head, and then left the room.

NOFINERFRIENDS

The darkness of night still lingered in the new day, but it was growing ever lighter and Aragorn shifted nervously, glancing up momentarily at the red tinged clouds that filled the sky, before back at the path. He and Faramir lurked behind a large tree, waiting. Éowyn, who had refused to be left behind, and a couple other trusted soldiers were scattered nearby, clutching their weapons hard enough to cut off circulation as they tried their patience.

The time had come. Either Legolas was going to be a saved, or there was going to be a much less happy ending to the story. While riding, they had come up with the best plan possible, but it was going mostly on luck, unfortunately for the elven prince.

Silently, they waited, hardly daring to breath.

The first sound of Legolas and his captors approaching was the soft clatter of hooves. Aragorn was instantly alert, straining his ears as hard as he could for any further signs. Leaning out from behind his tree, he gave Éowyn a subtle nod. She had also heard the noise and nodded back.

A minute later two horses, a black one and a brown one, came into view as they cleared a towering boulder. Two men sat astride, each wearing a dark cloak that concealed their bodies and made telling any defining features hard. Across the back of the second horse hung what looked like large bag, but Aragorn had a sinking feeling that it was Legolas.

The two horses drew nearer and Aragorn's heart began to race. Licking his suddenly dry lips, the king watched, focusing an expert eye on Legolas. The elf had been covered by a blanket, but his tell-tale blonde hair was swing softly as the horse walked.

The thicker set man of the two stopped and held up a fist, drawing the other to a stop as well and Aragorn stopped breathing.

 _Surly, surly, they could not have seen us. Please let us have remained hidden._ Aragorn pleaded, for surprise was the only tool working in their favor. However, much to the horror of Aragorn and his fellow friends, the man began to speak in a loud, sturdy, voice, "I know that you are there. Kill the elf."

The second man twisting in the saddle and faster than the eye could follow, swung a silver blade high, plunging towards the exposed elf's back.

Aragorn had a split second to decide what to do, and what he did he did without thinking.

"STOP!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, leaping out from behind his tee and waving his arms frantically, his sword still clutched in one hand. The other warriors who had joined the group gave each other confused glances, but stayed put until further instruction. The man, mere inches away from stabbing Legolas, pulled his hand back sharply and Aragorn felt his stomach drop with relief. A cruel laugh echoed from the bigger man's hood and the king swung towards him aiming his sword in that direction as he did so.

"You are lucky we want the money, or your friend would be dead by now," the cloaked man stated dryly. Aragorn frowned. The voice sounded strangely familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on when he had heard it before.

"You didn't give us enough time to gather the money." Aragorn contradicted, beginning to pick his way across the rock strewn ground. Casually he caught Faramir's eye, giving his head the smallest of shakes. Stay where you are.

"Move again and the elf dies!" the second man shouted, the knife back in danger zone. Aragorn held up his hands up peacefully and planted his feet where he stood. The man started speaking again, "As for the money, if you really wanted to gather it, you would have."

"No, we only had last night," Aragorn said diplomatically, sticking his sword in the ground and leaning on it as if his happiness did not depend on the outcome of this conversation. "We did not receive your letter until late last night. Give us a chance and we will raise the desired amount."

The two men shared a glance, and then turned back.

"Why should we do that?" the bigger man demanded.

"Because a dead body isn't worth that of a live soul, I won't give you much, if anything, for a body," Aragorn bluffed, his eyes finding the elf's limp form once more as if his intent stare could make the elf show some sign, any sign, of life.

"You would pay any amount of money I named," the man snarled, and Aragorn jerked his attention back.

Growing desperate, Aragorn threw caution to the wind, "But we didn't have time to gather it yet. Give us time and I swear by the Valar that I will pay you. Just keep Legolas alive until then." The men shared a look, and then glanced back at Aragorn. The king held his gaze daringly, though sweat was starting to break out as his nerves got the better of him.

"You have one week. One week, understand?" the smaller man called, turning his horse around swiftly. Jerking his head at his companion, he motioned for him to do the same, before yelling out a final instruction, "Stay here for thirty minutes." The meaning was clear of what would happen if Aragorn tried to follow them.

"Wait!" Aragorn hollered, as he began to scramble across the ground towards them, painfully stubbing his toe against a rock as he went. "Let me care for him, I'm a healer. I promise I won't do anything besides treat his wounds."

The man whose voice was familiar to Aragorn laughed harshly. "Oh, don't you worry, we will take _care_ of him every day that you don't have the money."With that last, biting remark, they turned and left.

Aragorn felt dark rage shoot hotly through his veins and was about to lunge forward when a gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

"You can't do anything now," Faramir stated, pulling him back and keeping a firm grip on his arm.

"Watch me," Aragorn growled, jerking his arm free and taking a step forward. Faramir recaptured him none to gently.

"Thirty minutes," he reminded urgently, giving Aragorn a small shake. "I do not doubt that this time they would kill him."

Aragorn slowly stopped, but he didn't look happy about it. His eyes gazed longingly in the direction that the men had left, but all he said was, "Legolas is in trouble." Turning, he sat down hard on a fallen rock and crossed his arms, gazing off into nothing. The friends and soldiers he had brought with him began to edge out of their hiding spots, looking around with worry at their liege.

The half-an-hour dragged past with all the speed of a turtle out of water and after a while Aragorn got up and began to pace. At twenty past, the ranger in him won over and he began to carefully examine the horse's hoof prints. To add to the fury that threatening to explode to the surface, Aragorn found small droplets of blood staining the dust and rocks. Legolas may be in more trouble than he had first imagined…

Shaking his head angrily, Aragorn shuffled forward, now following the blood splatters rather than the horse's hooves.

"Do we head back to Minas Tirith, Aragorn?" Faramir asked coming up behind the king and leading his own horse and Aragorn's. His face was the perfect picture of disappointment and fear. To the captain's surprise, Aragorn shook his head, handing the reins back to his friend, "I'm walking back," he explained as he squinted up through the ever brightening sunlight.

"Aragorn, it is over an hour back on a horse," Faramir stated, disbelief dripping from his voice as he narrowed his eyes and placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"I know." Aragorn said simply, going back to studying the ground intently, crouching down to get a better look at something. Faramir's eyes widen dramatically as he realized what his king was going to try and do and blurted in a low whispered, "You are going to tract them! Don't you want to bring along reinforcement?"

"No!" Aragorn instantly snapped, and he threw Faramir an apologetic look, continuing more softy, "They may disturb important information, this is something I need to do alone." Faramir frowned, giving him an I-don't-trust-that-you-won't-do-something-stupid-if-you-are-alone look.

Aragorn, as if reading his mind because he had gone back looking at the ground, said in reluctance, "I promise that I won't attack the men without backup...unless there is no other choice," he finished under his breath. His second in command sighed unhappily, not liking the situation, but knowing that he would never change the king's mind.

"The best of luck, Aragorn, and may the Valar go with you," he replied hopefully. If anyone could save Legolas, it would be Aragorn. Calling out to the rest of the people milling around, he began to gather them up and heading them off on the ride home, taking the long way around the gorge as not to disturb the tracks that Aragorn planned on following.

TBC...

 **Well, at least this time Aragorn should hopefully be able to head in the right direction. :)**

 **Oh, and please take note that I going out of town this next week and will not be able to post. :( At least I didn't leave you all on a major cliffie!**

 **Review Reply:**

 **LOTCR:** HAha, I doubt that they will never, ever again forget that fact! Yup, after all this time they figured it out! And they continue to figure it out! I am sure that Aragorn would have loved your gold...too bad. :( (I will take that gold, though, if you won't miss it. Money. *sigh* ) Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I am so, so, sorry for the delay. But for once I wasn't my fault. My internet just went completely out last night, just out of the blue, and we only got them up and working again this evening. So, wihtout further delay, read on. :)**

 **Disclaimer** **: not mine.**

Chapter Six

Aragorn, tired, sweaty, and dust covered, walked into the cool, damp entrance of Minas Tirith's dungeons. Almost five hours ago he had started the journey that had led him here, and he was not in the mood to be messed with.

Carefully, painstakingly carefully, he had followed the two horses tracks (and the miscue droplets of blood that fell every few yards) until to his utter surprise they had lead him back to the city he now called home. The tracks had followed many unused roads, though he had almost lost them when they come upon heavier traffic. At last they had lead through the back gate of the city.

This had first proved a problem as dust turned to cobble stone and the horse's tracks had been lost, but for once in his life, Aragorn was glad to see Legolas' blood. The life preserving substance was the only clue that Aragorn now had of the elf prince's whereabouts.

Needless to say, the scruffy king received many strange looks as he practically belly crawled up the street, following the trail of droplets. Once a guard had tried to arrest him, believing he was either drunk or crazy, and Aragorn had been forced to declare himself and show proof of who he really was.

But that was all in the past.

Taking his first step into the cool interior, he felt his heart began to speed. This could be it! This could be the end of his search.

The door banged shut behind Aragorn and he jumped, his hand subconsciously flying down to rest on the sun-warmed hilt of his sword. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his racing nerves and blinked rapidly to adjust to the darkness within the prison.

The guard's center, just to the right of this door but before the locked second door, stood empty. Aragorn felt as if a bag of stones had fallen into his stomach as realization hit him, perhaps later than it might have if Legolas hadn't been on his mind.

Dirhéal! That was Dirhéal's voice he had heard and sworn he recognized. Dirhéal was the only one who could have done this, it all made sense now! He had never liked the man much anyway…

Anger coursed hotly through his body and Aragorn swung around, his face terrifying to behold. He was going to rip that man limb from limb when he found him for what he had done! Forcefully, the king yanked open the hidden slot in the wall to revel the spare keys to the dungeon and wrenched the key ring free.

"Hey! What do you think you are doing!?" A guard had appeared from behind the door that led directly into the dungeon. He looked relatively young and his hand shook lightly as he drew forth his sword, pointing it at Aragorn. "You are not allowed to have those!"

Aragorn slowly held up his hands, dropping the keys as he did so. It would do little good for himself, Legolas, or this guard if he got himself skewed. Slowly he stared walking forward, his face calming, "I have permission to be here," he explained softly.

"Dirhéal or a higher ranking official has to give it. Where are your papers?!" the guard ordered, holding the sword steadier now and motioning for Aragorn to stay where he was at. Aragorn sighed. He did not have time for this!

"Relax, solider, I'm the king," he stated softly, pointing at the ring of Bararhir that adorned his finger. The youth gaped, and then horror spread across his features and he dropped to the ground.

"My lord –forgive me!" he cried, but Aragorn was already moving forward, touching his shoulder gently as he picked up the keys.

"It is not the first time I have been mistaken for a thug and I doubt it will be the last," he said kindly, before suddenly hauling the youth and holding his shirt collar tightly, his voice growing fierce. "Are you in on it with Dirhéal!" he cried, swinging him forcefully around and slamming him up against the opposite wall.

The younger man's eyes grew wide with fear and he shook his head wildly in confusion and fear. "Your highness, I don't understand?" he pleaded, "I –I mean, this is only my second week back! My wife needed taken care of and Dirhéal allowed me several weeks off…"Aragorn searched his gaze for a long minute and then let go of him, reading truthfulness in his eyes.

"Forgive me," he sincerely stated, "but Dirhéal has chosen to act as a traitor to the crown."

"Dirhéal!" the soldier gaped, his mouth falling open, but Aragorn overrode him.

"I need to know if he is keeping an elf here, or where Dirhéal is. Do you know either?" he bracing his hands on the young man's shoulders, urgency coming off him in waves.

"You just missed Dirhéal. As for an elf, I have never seen one," the guard replied, something hardening in his eyes as he did so. Aragorn understood what it was; it was the pain of betrayal.

"When will he be back?" the king asked, now striding over to the door and unlocking it with a loud creak. The guard shook his head and sheathed his sword, leading the king further into the interior of the prison.

It was a dim, gloomy place, but enough flickering torches lined the wall that it was easy to see.

"We search every cell." Aragorn insisted, striding off one way and motioning for the guard to go down the opposite way. "I am looking for an elf. He has blonde hair and blue eyes. He is more than likely unconscious."

The hunt for Legolas proved to yield nothing as the last cell was checked and still no Legolas. Heart-burning with terror and fear, Aragorn sank down to sit on the hard, cold, stone floor at the end of the hallway that indicated the end of the dungeon itself and buried his face in his hands. His fingers dug painfully into his skin, but he only pressed all the harder. The young guard shifted uncomfortably and the king felt a smile tug at his lips despite everything.

He could almost hear what Legolas would say, seeing him covered in sweat and filth, in his most common and dirty clothes, while sitting on the floor of his own dungeon. The thought hurt more than the king thought it could and he let out choked laugh, torn between amusement at what the elf would have said and the pain in his heart.

"Are you sure that your friend is here?" the guard asked tentatively.

Aragorn heaved a dejected sigh, "No", he finally admitted. The weight of the burden he bore suddenly seemed to heavy to carry around and with a low breath, he slumped over onto the ground, flinging a hand over his face as he did so in utter despair.

The lead had failed.

Opening his eyes, the king stared out across his floor, his eyes unseeing. That was until his mind registered what he was seeing. Another minuscule drop of blood lay only inches away from his eyes and he scrambled to his knees.

"Move back, move back against the wall!" he ordered the guard as he bent over the blood, his grey eyes flickering over the ground. For several minutes he shuffled back and forth on his knees, trying to read what they were telling him.

"I think…" he muttered at last as he lay on his stomach once again, looking around, "It it could be possible, this city is so old no one knows all her secrets."

"What is possible, sir?" the guard asked, glancing around with bemusement written clearly on his face.

"Wait and see," the king said slowly. Getting to his feet, his pressed his hands up against the solid looking wall. Carefully he pushed and tapped, one ear pressed against the cold stone wall until, "Ha," Aragorn breathed out. Leaning all his weight against the wall he pushed, hard.

For a moment nothing happened, but then the wall began to move inward with soft grinding sound. It swung inward to reveal a dark chamber.

"Amazing!" the young guard behind him murmured, awe clear in the one word.

"Dirhéal obviously knew," Aragorn said stiffly, becoming more and more convinced that Legolas had been taken captive by the man. Taking a torch from the wall, he ducked through the door and into the unknown.

The large open hallway that he stepped into was dark and cobwebs clung to the walls, shinning eerily off the light. The place had clearly been forgotten long ago and Aragorn would have thought it had gone ages without seeing a single live soul for years if it hadn't been for the floor. Dust should have covered it thickly, muffling their footsteps, but most of the dust had been wiped clear by the passage of many feet, or a few pair of feet passing through many times.

"Come, and keep your weapon at the ready," Aragorn mouthed over his shoulder, holding his torch higher above his head so that its flickering light bounced off the walls. Leading the way, the king crept through the passage way.

"Wow…" the youth whispered loudly as he followed his liege and Aragorn shot him a hard glare as his voice echoed. The former ranger couldn't help but keep the same words for repeating themselves in his mind, however, as he also gazed around him. It was truly amazing that all this had been forgotten for so long.

Soon the path they were following came to a long flight of narrow, rundown stairs. They seemed to be faintly swaying with an imaginary wind and Aragorn paused, turning back to face his one soldier. "I'm going down, but I won't have you do so if you don't want too."The guard swallowed nervously, glancing back up at the way they had come and then back at the stairs. His shoulders stiffened and he tightened his grip on his sword.

"I will follow you, my king," he said bravely. Aragorn nodded once and began to descend the stairs, carefully placing his feet. The old wood creaked, protesting their weight, and he winced, "I've changed my mind, I need you stay up here," he said quickly, turning back his face his solider. "Go find more soldiers, tell them that I sent you. If they don't believe you, then tell Lord Faramir that I succeeded in what I set out to do. Bring blankets and stretcher along with you, please."

The youth nodded hurriedly and turned running back towards the door.

Aragorn held his torch higher and swiftly began to move, holding his breath. He didn't trust theses stairs to hold up much longer and planned on reaching the bottom before the stairs could send him there of their own accord.

He jumped the last few steps with a great amount of relief in his thudding heart as the stairs quivered, and landed in a foot of ice cold water. Gasping with initial shock, he quickly gritted his teeth against the cold and splashed forward. The walls were just as damp and broken down as they had been above, but down here the all consuming darkness seem to press all the heavier down on the king, surrounding him. The light of the torch seemed to falter, be he pressed forward, squinting as he looked around within his five-foot radius of light.

"Legolas?!" he called as loudly as he dared, sloshing through the water. To his left he came upon a wall of cells and felt his pulse quicken. The shadows at the edge of the circle of light danced ominously and he moved forward, peering hopefully into the first cell.

There, chained to a wall, was the shadowy from of someone who could only be the missing elf.

Ramming up against the bars, Aragorn felt as if the air had been knocked out of him, "Legolas!" he cried again joyfully. The elf didn't respond and some of the man's elation faded as he thrust the torch higher, illuminating the former prince of Mirkwood.

He was deathly pale in the firelight, except for the bruises with adorned his upper body and face. He was slumped sideways against the wall and the only thing keeping him from being fully submerged in the cold water was his chained wrist. His eyes were closed and sunken into their sockets. It looked as if death was hovering near and counting down the minutes until it could pounce and claim what it thought was its.

Aragorn felt his own blood began to freeze. "Legolas! Answer me!" he called out in fear. The prince didn't appear to be breathing, he couldn't see his chest rising and falling. "Legolas!" he pleaded.

Still, the elf did not stir.

Fumbling with the torch, Aragorn stuck it in an old, crumbling torch holder on the wall and began to attack the lock that held the cell closed. Key after key he tried, but to no avail. It wasn't going to open without some effort on the king's part. Glancing up, he again searched he elf's face for some sign of life.

Jamming his arm through the bars, Aragorn stretched, trying desperately to touch the prince. His finger tips were inches too short, though, and he smashed himself up against the cold stone, twisting to give his arm further reach. Straining, he just managed to touch the elf's cold fingers.

"Just hold on, Legolas," he grunted, his veins popping with the effort of maintaining the grip. "Just hold on." At last, he was forced to withdraw his arm, now panting heavily. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to get into that cell with or without the key. Backing up, the king rushed the old and crumbling door with all the strength he could muster and slammed into it with his left shoulder.

Plain flared through the limb, but he ignored it, setting his teeth and crashing into it once more. He would never be able to break a brand new padlock this way, but Aragorn was crossing his fingers that the frailty of the cell its self would cave. The side that did not hold the lock looked rusted through from long exposure to water and wouldn't hold up against much force He might just have a chance.

Crying out a war cry half filled with pain, Aragorn rammed it again. This time, the bars groaned under his weight and the man grinned. Another hit, and another ominous wrenching sound. His shoulder was now burning with pain, but he didn't pause and ran into the metal like a mad bull faced with a red cape once again. The door gave a jarring lurch forward and Aragorn stumbled against it, the move unexpected. He was making progress. The door was moving slowly, but surely, past the frame.

Backing up, he slammed into it again and again it moved a little.

 _One more…_ Aragorn thought, and he began to run, putting all the strength he posses into hitting that door. He hit it hard and heard his shoulder make a popping noise, but the door swung wildly forward.

Staggering forward with surprise, he tripped and fell to all fours, soaking his sleeves and breeches. "Legolas!'' he called out, clambering back up and moving to his friend's side, worry making his heart throb painfully along with his shoulder which was now screaming at him He would have to take care of that later.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called softly, bending over his far to still friend, his hand coming down and cupping the prince's cheek. His skin was as cold as the ice on top of Caradras and Aragorn felt fear grip him tightly. "Oh, Legolas," he murmured, dropping to his knees despite the water.

Legolas was in bad shape, that much would be obvious to a blind man. Blood and bruises marred his far to white skin and his shallow intake of air could hardly be seen. The skin on his face was swollen with abuse and the area beneath his eyes was a dark purple. Barely healed over cuts adorned his chest and belly, though their ends where swallowed up by the water. Faint scars, that appeared to be burn marks, followed suit. Open, raw, wounds were littered across his body.

"Oh, Legolas," Aragorn whispered again, unable to think of anything else to say. Laying his palm flat against the prince's bare chest he waited anxiously for a heartbeat. It was there, thready, uneven and erratic, but there. "'Wake for me _, mellon-nin_ , you are safe," he conveyed, inching closer so that he could cradle the elf's head in his hands, slipping unconsciously into elvish as he did so.

The prince still made no movement and Aragorn let him go, reaching up instead to feel the chains that where holding the prince upright. They were worse condition then the door and the man smiled, though this quickly faded from his face as he shifted the manacles up and caught sight of the state of Legolas' wrist. They where lactated, the skin all but gone from the chaffing, and a thick puss was leaking form the injury.

"Dirhéal will pay, Legolas," Aragorn vowed aloud as he took the peg that the chain was nailed too and freed it with one good wrench. He suspected that Dirhéal never thought that elf would be able to pull free in such a weak state, and therefore hadn't cared enough to replace the tool with something that would actually do the job. Not that he was complaining.

The prince began to slide rapidly down the wall now that his balance was thrown off and Aragorn only just caught him before he clasped into the water.

"Shh, I've got you," he soothed, more out of habit then anything, as he hoisted the frail elf up against his chest and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady. He desperately hoped his guards where on the way, Legolas needed attention and fast. He could not treat the elf down here in the cold water, but he dared not try and caring him up those stairs by himself.

Legolas' body protested the change in position, and he began to wheeze loudly, his lungs freezing when they were most needed.

Aragorn caught his breath, "Don't you dare, don't you dare do this to me, elf!" he whispered as his guts began to crawl with internal panic. He pulled the elf up higher, trying to get his body into a more relaxed position so that no additional strain would be put on the lungs. As he did so, he noticed for the first time the definite pink tinge to the water and frowned.

Bending over his friend's shoulder, he cringed. Legolas' back had been whipped harshly and recently, leaving the skin a mass of red, bleeding welts. In some spots, the whip had torn the skin right off and he couldn't be sure in the dark, but he thought the white flash of bone was visibly. Feeling a little ill, he gathered Legolas close to him. Struggling out of his own cloak, he threw it around the prince like a blanket, hoping against hope that the damp material would help his friend retain any body heat that he could.

Legolas took a shuddering, weak breath and Aragorn felt it brush his cheek. Sighing, he laid his chin atop the prince's head and whispered a soft pray in elvish for his horribly weakened friend. He could tell just from being near him that Legolas' window of getting the help that he so desperately needed was closing rapidly.

TBC...

 **There was the cliffie that you were all just dying for. :)**

 **Reivew Replies:**

 **LOTCR:** Haha! We fangirls always, always, when in the end. No matter what we are doing. And especially if it concern's whateveritmightbe that we are fangirling over. :) Thanks!

 **ElvenPrincess:** Well, it appears as if it managed it...at least for now. Who knows what else could happen? Thanks!

 **Guest:** My prayers go out to his family. :( Poor Legolas! He had to wait even longer than expected... but on the other hand I enjoyed my vacation very much, it did so much good for me. Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Happy almost 4th to all my fellow Americans! :)**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Seven

Aragorn cradled Legolas gently in his arms as they sat together in water up past their waist with only the faint light of a torch to comfort them.

"Just hold on, Legolas," the human implored for what seemed to be the hundredth time since finding his friend. Pausing, he let his hand hover over the prince's mouth and nose, waiting with baited breath for each reassuring gasp of air. "You just keep breathing for me, you hear, because I... you are not allowed to die on me." Looking away the great, strong, king of all men gritted his teeth. So many emotions were flowing through him that he didn't know what to do with all. Fear was prominent, but anger was coursing through his veins right along with it.

The minutes seemed to drag on, and Aragorn began to grow frigidity. Where were the guards? Surly they should be here soon; it had been an hour or so since he had sent the young guard off…

Aragorn began to shiver as the cold water soaked through his clothes and drained the body heat from him, but it was too his worry that Legolas did not. The elf's body was like a block of ice resting against his and yet he did not shiver. Closing his eyes and dropping his head so that his chin rested on the elf's head, he began to rock back and forth, humming an almost inaudible song. When he caught Dirheal...

Suddenly the sound of a great many people could be heard as voices and the stomping of feet echoed loudly throughout the air. Lights began to be seen through the darkness flickering like the stars that Legolas loved so much and Aragorn heaved a great sigh of relief, hugging Legolas briefly.

Standing clumsily, Aragorn caught the elf's legs and swung the prince into his arms gently, preparing to meet the rescue group.

"I'm here!" he cried out, watching as the lights turned and bobbed after the direction of his voice.

"My lord!" someone cried, and then he was surrounded by men, asking him this and that and all around creating a confusing scene.

"Where is the stretcher?!" Aragorn finally roared in frustration, knowing that they did not have time for any of this.

"Right here, my lord," one solider said softly, raising his hand. "We have everything else that you asked for."

"Thank you," Aragorn said, craning his head to see where he was going. Reaching the stretcher he smiled at the four men holding it, assuring them, "He is not heavy." Gingerly, the king laid the elf down as gently as he could and began to cover him firmly in the warm, dry blankets that someone handed him. As he tucked the corners in around the visibly abused body, he took the time to squeeze his hand. "Do me a favor, Legolas," he said for the elf's ears only, "And please, I'm begging you, don't make me be the one to have to tell Thranduil that his son didn't survive, because I didn't realize something was wrong. It would be a little early to make Eldarion a ruler, anyway." He squeezed the slim fingers hard. Letting go, he started to walk through the cold water, turning his head and ordering as he did so, "I want soldiers to scout the area in pairs of two. Find Dirhéal and bring him to me."

"Your highness, beg your pardon, but I disagree," the highest official there stated, stepping forward and walking with long strides to keep up with the stretch. Aragorn glanced up from Legolas' face and nodded for him to continue. "Those stairs are unstable and could break at any moment. I fear for the men who would be down below if they did clasp. Is it not better to get everyone out and wait for Dirhéal to come to us?"

Aragorn paused, but then nodded, seeing the wisdom in this and the man turned back, calling to his men to make for the stairs. The king lengthened his stride and glanced back down at Legolas' pale face. His hand was glued to the elf's throat, the ragged thump of the beating heart comforting him.

They reached the rickety stairs and began to climb. Aragorn saw what the man had meant with his first step on the stone, it was more unstable than when he last climbed down it. This was not a comforting thought and Aragorn subconsciously tightened his hold on Legolas. Slowly, they made the dangerous steps with as much care as they could. Everything seemed to grow unnaturally still and quiet and their steeps atomically slowed even more, each man glancing around in fear.

Suddenly, the stairs began to quiver, their age catching up to them as the added weight of many men pressed down on it. All the men stumbled, to the side, shifting the balance of the wood even more. Aragorn lunged protectively over the stretcher, shielding Legolas with his body, but nothing came down from above.

The old stairs continued to shake ominously and someone further below yelled the command that was on everyone's minds.

"RUN!"

Untangling himself from Legolas, Aragorn and the stretcher bearers began to run up the stairs as the pounding of the feet below caused the wobbling to changed to dramatic shifts from side to side. Splinters began to crumble away from beneath and the skirting of dust could be seen skipping past their feet as it was shaken loose.

"GO, GO,GO!" Aragorn shouted, letting go of Legolas' hand and pausing to help a man who had fallen back up before he could be trampled by the oncoming soldiers. The top of the stairs could now be seen and the sight urged them all to greater speeds as they staggered up. The stretcher bearing Legolas was going slower than a normal man could and soon the others had caught up and where passing them by. Two of the soldiers struggled through the throng and grabbed Aragorn by the arms and yanking him forward and further away from Legolas. The king resisted, but the other men continued to push him to the front of the line, unwilling to let him die.

"No! I don't want-" Aragorn tried protesting, but had to stops as the rumbling of falling materials drowned out his voice and dust began to chock them all.

A minute, which seemed like an hour, later they where stumbling on to stable rock and Aragorn tugged free. Reaching out, they began to pull others up behind them and to safety. One of the last one's to come to security was Legolas and his bearers, and Aragorn hurriedly grabbed hold, helping them up the last few steps. His heart was pounding hard in relief and he took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

A moment later the stairs gave a violent lurch and gave completely. It vanished into the darkness far below. Aragorn and the rest peered over the edge with varying degrees of relief and shock on their faces as the loud crashes and bangs echoed up dully from below.

"Is everyone all right?" Aragorn finally asked when silence had been returned, his breathing labored from the long climb. Many voices responded and the king let out a long sigh of relief, running a hand through his sweaty, gritty, hair. The group began to shuffle towards the exit and Aragorn turned, fighting upstream to reach his friend.

"Thank you," he said sincerely to the men holding the stretcher. Reaching out, his once again found the elf's pulse and he counted mentally. There was no change. The men nodded and Aragorn smiled, before looking ahead. The rest of the trip back out of the dungeons was uneventful and it was with a great joy that all the men filed out and into the bright, warm, afternoon sunlight.

"Get a notice out on Dirhéal. I want him found," Aragorn ordered the captain, before adding in a quiet under tone to the men caring Legolas, "You four, with me." Quickly they began to walk and soon entered the busy courtyard. People momentarily stopped what they doing to see what was happening and low whispers began to hiss through the yard.

"Take the severance entrance as soon as you can," Aragorn directed, stepping protectively closer to Legolas and shielding him from prying eyes. The familiar thump of his friend's heart underneath his hand gave a hitch and the man felt his lungs smilingly freeze. "Hurry," he urged.

Taking the servants way, which was both faster and away from curious eyes, the group of six soon found themselves on the seventh level of the city, where the healing halls where located. The sound of running feet came from behind and Aragorn twisted to see who it was.

"Aragorn! I've just heard the news, is it true?!" Faramir cried, his normally put together appearance ruffled. He stopped mid-step as he caught sight of the pale, dead looking elf and let his mouth drop open. "It is true… " he murmured with fear for his friend clear. Picking up his step, the steward of Gondor caught up with them and walked along the other side of the stretcher, his protest that the king hadn't waited for more back up before acting dying on his seemed unable to draw his mortified gaze away from the prince's gravely injured body and it was with a slightly green face that he looked up at the king

"Will he live?" he asked in a whisper. Aragorn turned his face away and let his shoulders rise and fall with the air that he carried a great weight.

"I don't know," he admitted painfully. They walked, or rather sprinted, on quickly until they reached the large door of the healing halls.

"Leave us," Aragorn commanded once they had transferred Legolas onto one of the many comfortable and clean beds. "I have work to do."

NOFINNERFRIENDS

The people outside the healing halls slowly swelled as the word of Legolas' rescue spread like wild fire. Éowyn paced the marble floor, white face and uptight, while her husband stood ridged against the wall. Arwen cuddled Eldarion close and gently answered his many questions.

It had been early in the afternoon that Legolas' had been brought in, but it was late in the evening when Aragorn found a moment to pause in his care and inform them all of how Legolas was doing.

As the door swung open, every movement seemed to stop and all eyes turned to their king. For a moment, he was silent. Taking a deep breath, the former ranger forced a smile on his face and crouched down next to Eldarion.

"Hey, buddy," he whispered gently, ruffling his already unruly hair, "I need you to- to run and grab your, ah, sleeping clothes. It is past your bedtime." The adults in the room shared knowing, scared, glances as Eldarion dashed off excitedly towards his room on the mission his father had given him.

Aragorn straightened and ran a hand through his own hair, looking extremely tired and worn as he heaved a sigh.

"Legolas isn't doing well, is he?" Éowyn questioned tentatively.

"No," the king agreed despairingly, "He is hovering between life and death, and has been for quite a while as far as I can tell." The man began to pace, his hands clenching and unclenching as he talked, his voice growing angrier with each word."Legolas has had to endure starvation, torture, and then more torture. Not to mention the fact that this all happened in a cave like element, which is just another form of torture for an elf. I could never guess all that has happened to him in the past month. I just don't know..."

Faramir and the two women shared another significant look, this time with varying degrees of horror, before Arwen moved forward. Walking over to her husband, she encircled him with her arms and allowed him to drop his head heavily onto her shoulder.

"Legolas is strong willed, he won't give up without a fight," she soothed, gently rubbing the man's back as they swayed lightly on the spot, "You are tired, get some rest and everything will be brighter." Aragorn shook his head and pulled back, his face more troubled than ever.

"Legolas needs me, I dare not leave him now," he said with a stab of bravery, allowing a tired and faint smile to touch his lips, though it rapidly dropped down to a frown. Arwen nodded, her eyes tracing her husband's face.

"Keep us posted?" Faramir asked as Éowyn nodded.

Aragorn agree, and then turned his back to them, sliding through the large doors and back to Legolas' side.

For a moment, the three adults where silent, then Éowyn said, "I don't think waiting here any longer will do us any good. Aragorn will find us if there is a change." The other two nodded, but stayed where they were at. Finally, with one last glance at the closed door, they went their own ways, hearts silently pleading for the survival of their friend.

Back in the healing halls, Aragorn was bent over his friend, adding yet another blanket to the sizable pile already covering Legolas. The elf was still freezing to the touch, which disturbed Aragorn greatly for more than one reason. It had always seemed that Legolas, though an elf, had been practically prone to infections no matter how well they cleaned his wounds and now was no different. The nasty injures that the former prince of Mirkwood had received showed all the signs of infections, the redness and swollen skin, but not the accompanying fever. This, more than anything, showed how desperate the elf's situation was.

Sighing loudly, the ranger turned king sat back in a high backed chair, watching as the prince's chest struggled to rise and fall.

"Legolas, _mellon-nin_ , listen to my voice and come back to the light and those who love you," he murmured, placing his hand across the elf's clammy brow and pressing down gently while his other hand found the elf's. Legolas drew in a ragged breath and seemed to tilt his head to the side, but otherwise didn't show any sign of hearing.

"I know you can do it. Legolas, I need you to come back. I need to talk to you, I need you to know you are free," he continued, forcing his despair from earlier back and installing a weak hope instead, hoping to urge Legolas back from the brink he was teetering over. Again, the elf seemed to stir at the powerful command, before going still, and the human heaved a sigh.

Grabbing a cloth, he ducked it into a bowl of steaming water and wiped it across his friend's face. Leaving on his brow, he covered it with his own hand, and repeated the order for Legolas to hear his voice and awake. Legolas didn't stir this time, and the man sat back, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

"Legolas, please, I need you to be alright," he whispered, sitting forward once more and unraveling a roll of bandages. Cutting through the linen easily with a small knife, he lifted Legolas limp hand and wrapped the fresh bandages around the weeping wrist. His hands were shaking lightly and Aragorn frowned. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his heart until he stopped shaking. Legolas would fine, he had to be.

It was not until late in the morning the next day, that Aragorn finally saw a change in the Lord of Ithilien that lifted his spirits. Legolas had begun to shiver, his body shaking uncontrollable and his teeth chattering vigorously. Moans constantly left his bloodless, chapped, and split lips. But this showed that he was fighting, that he wasn't about to let death wonder in and claim him like an old boot. On the downside, however, the constant shivering was sucking the strength rapidly from Legolas' already depleted store.

"Legolas, wake up, for me, please," Aragorn once again found himself pleading, this time with renewed vigor. He slipped a hand under one of the blankets just above the elf's heart, feeling the freezing touch of skin against his palm as the regular beat there eased his mind. The elf paused in his groaning, as if in confusion, and Aragorn sat forward eagerly. Calling out again, he was rewarded with a pair of hazy, dimmed blue eyes peeking out from underneath long, dark, eyelashes.

"Hey, hey…look at me," Aragorn directly softly as he smiled widely, resting the back of his hand against the prince's cool cheek. Legolas moaned again and let his head roll limply to the side, closing his eyes as he did so. "No, Legolas, you must look at me, you must open your eyes," the man urged, gently maneuvering his head back around. "Can you hear me?" he asked in confusion. Legolas' eyelids fluttered once more and after a minute they drifted open.

The elf didn't otherwise respond, however. His eyes floated pointlessly around the room, never actually focusing in on anything. His normally brilliantly blue eyes where cloudy and Aragorn had the sinking feeling that the prince wasn't really with him.

"Legolas…" he tried again, attempting to turn the elf's attention back to him, but Legolas face remained slack and uncaring. His shivering increased dramatically until Aragorn thought that he might just shake right off the bed. Sliding onto the bed next to his friend, he gathered Legolas into his arms, blankets and all, and huddled him close in a hope to preserve some warmth.

Legolas cried out in unbearable pain shot through his body and he arched his back, breathing heavily as he fought. "No…" he gasped out, repeating the single syllable louder as Aragorn tried to constrain him so that he would not hurt himself worse. His hands fluttered wildly as another cry was wrenched from him and he latched onto Aragorn, his fingers squeezing as he surged upwards, trying to flow with the pain.

"Shh, shh… you are safe," Aragorn tried to sooth, whispering the words over and over again. Legolas buckled and the man pressed him down gently, trying to get him to stay still. "Shh, don't move, Legolas, you will only hurt yourself worse." Slowly, Legolas calmed, his dull blue eyes continuing to flick across the rooms as he sucked in ragged gulps of air. The man continued to hold him until he slipped back into an uneasy sleep.

TBC...

 **Well, Legolas was awake... sort of. But at least he is safe! :)**

 **Review Replies:**

 **feuilleblanche:** I promise an update every Friday, or pretty much every Friday. :) Thanks!

 **Elven Princess:** Yea, that is true. :) I haven't had the guts to kill him yet. Maybe one of these days I will take you all by surprise. Haha, stupid weirdos is such a correct term. :) Thanks!

 **Nameless:** I'm am exceedingly glad that you are enjoying it that much! Haha, yea... caffeine right before bed doesn't really sound that wise. I hope you also have a fantastic summer. :) Thanks!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Ah, Friday... I love Fridays because I get to post. :) That always lifts my spirits.**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Eight

"Could he not come in for just a few minutes? Or could you come out?" Arwen asked worriedly, leaning against the cracked door and talking through it. Aragorn, who was on the other side, sighed heavily, rubbing his temples tiredly.

"I don't want Eldarion to see Legolas, not like this," he countered, glancing behind at the figure on the bed as he did so.

The past few days had been hard on all of them, to say the least, but especially for the elf. Legolas had continued to hover between life and death for several hours which was a time Aragorn was unlikely to forget anytime soon. For a stretch after that, the king had thought they might have a chance of pulling through as Legolas began to show great improvement. Then the fever had struck. The infection introduced illness had gripped the elf ferociously and had required all of Aragorn's time and energy.

"He misses his father and can't understand why he isn't allowed to see you," Arwen pleaded with her husband. "The last time he really interacted with you, you scared him. I think he is afraid that he has done something wrong."

"Legolas is so ill, his condition could change at a moment's notice…" Aragorn reasoned, his tone desperate, "It is not that I don't want to see him, I do. I want to spend time with him, Arwen…" he trailed off, unsure of how to convey his emotions. Legolas moaned loudly in the background and the bed creaked as the prince twisted himself feverishly around.

Arwen let out a long sigh, her heart softening at the distress in her husband's voice. She knew why Aragorn was doing what he was doing, but Eldarion did not. "I warn you, though, Aragorn, that sooner or later Eldarion will come to find you. He misses you both."Aragorn nodded, before remembering that Arwen could only see a sliver of his face and replying out loud instead. Reaching through the door, he clasped her hand in farewell. After she was out of sight, he returned to his dedicated and self imposed post by Legolas' side.

'No, no…please. I-I don't want…stop!" Legolas was murmuring wildly as he writhed against the white sheets encasing his body. The elf threw himself over onto his side and his sweet slicked face caught the light of a dim candle and shone brightly, making him appear even less like a human. The hair around his head fanned out like a large halo, only adding to his extra-terrestrial appearance

"Shh, you are alright, it is just a dream," Aragorn soothed, capturing the slim hands easily and stilling their movements. The elf jerked back, fighting weakly against the man's hold and the king sighed, "Calm down, Legolas," he implored.

"No, no," Legolas moaned again in-between loud, heaving breathes that seemed to be magnified by the small room. The king leaned over the elf and began to untangle him from the sheets. He was just about to repeat his own words, when the elf's next words caught him off guard.

"No, NO! Don't…don't kill, not, Estel. Not…the, fish."

Frowning, Aragorn bent further over his friend, who shrunk back into the bed, whimpering rather like a small child.

"What do mean, fish?"" Aragorn asked clearly bemused as he gently touched Legolas' fever damp face with a wet rag. The other words where quiet normal for a fever induced hallucination, but this was the first time in his healing career that fish had been add in, "Fish? Really, _mellon-nin_ , you don't even like them that much!"

Pressing the cold cloth against the prince's brow, he continued in the same teasing tone, "You always told me that the worst part of trading with lake-town was that once or twice a year you had to attend meetings or something and that they always served fish. Every meal. —And now you are dreaming about them!" Laughing in a forced manner, Aragorn was suddenly startled by a knock on the door.

Getting to his feet, he crossed the wooden floor and leaned up against the door.

"Who is it?" he asked wary of council men who might try and waste his time.

"Faramir," the man called form the other side.

Aragorn sighed with relief and cracked the door so that he could better talk with him. He would not let him in, not yet, sparing the man who had already seen so much horror in his life the pain of seeing Legolas in such a ghastly condition. It was for this same reason that he had denied Eldarion permission to enter and asked Arwen not too.

"Speak, please," Aragorn intoned, "Tell me why you came."

"I am here to report on the Dirhéal search," Faramir replied in a hushed tone, causing Aragorn to lean in closer and open the door a little wider, "We still have been unable to locate him, someone has tipped him off. I would beat my right arm that it was that second man who we still have been unable to identify."

"If I had any doubts before now that it really was him, they have certainly been erased," The king replied softly, rubbing a hand across his bread, the barest hint of deep anger in his voice. "If he was innocent, then he would have come forward. I would have given him a fair trial and he knows that."

"The men are searching throughout all of Minis Tirith and the lands round about. We also have citizens aware that Dirhéal is not to be sheltered, and that if they see him they are to get help," Faramir finished, giving the king a helpless look.

"Thank you," Aragorn said earnestly. Thinking that their conversation was at an end, he began to slide the door close, but stopped when Faramir spoke once more.

"How is Legolas?"

Aragorn closed his eyes and leaned further on the door.

"He…he is doing better than he was when I carried him out of the dungeon, but that is not hard to bypass. His condition continues to change with a flip of a coin, but we should know, one way or the other, within a few days."

A heavy sigh was heard from the other side of the door and then Faramir's footsteps could be heard retracing their way down the hall. Aragorn also sighed, which he seemed to be doing a lot of lately, and the hurried back to Legolas' side.

NOFINERFRIENDS

The candles where still burning bright late into the night in the private healing room where Legolas was positioned. His fever had finally broken, much to Aragorn's relief. Leaving a cool cloth on his friend's still slightly hot brow, Aragorn merely sat for a minute, reflecting with worried lines creasing his tired face.

His fever may have broken, but did he have the strength to go on? He was still so weak…the single question bothered Aragorn deeply and, more to shake the thoughts off than anything, he began to fill a basin with fresh, warm water.

Still the thoughts of what could still happen to Legolas chased their way around Aragorn's mind and he forcefully ducked the white cloth in, determined not to give heed to them, and hummed softly to chase them away. As the king washed the sweat that caked Legolas' body off, he began to sing softly under his breath. The song was one of his favorites, and one that he heard many, many times in the Hall of Fire. He vaguely remembered Elrond or the twins singing it to him when he must have been very small. Maybe that was why he always turned to it for comfort.

As he wiped the cloth down Legolas' arm, however, the elf stirred feebly and gave a low moan before twisting his head towards the sound of Aragorn's voice. Encouraged by the reaction, the man let the words flow freely from his lips, his voice louder now that he knew the elf was listening. Reaching out, he briefly touched his friend's face before going back to washing him down. During the middle of the second verse, Legolas stirred again, his face scrunching up as the pain hit him and another pitiful whimper escaped him. His breathing rate increased dramatically and Aragorn broke the song off in concern.

"Legolas, do not fight it, come back to the light," he said loudly, clasping on Legolas' hand in his and rubbing it gently with his thumb. Legolas gasped raggedly and his hand twitched in Aragorn's, as though he wanted to grasp the human's back but lacked the strength.

"That's it, Legolas," the king encouraged gleefully, almost giddy with excitement, as he pushed the damp golden locks back from the prince's face and flatting them against the white pillow. Giving the loudest moan yet, the elf's eyelids flickered and Aragorn smiled readily down, "Thank the Valar!" he exclaimed as the elf's eyes blinked open.

"Aragorn…" Legolas rasped, confusion lining his voice as he blinked sluggishly up at the blurred figure leaning over him.

"Of course, who else?" Aragorn asked cheerfully as he reached up and gently laid a hand up against the elf's still hot cheek. This was a great improvement from last time Legolas had awoken.

"Am I dreaming?" the lord of Ithilien inquired, his gaze traveling blankly around the room but not taking any of it in.

"No, no. This is not a dream," the king soothed easily, his smile dropping a little.

Legolas shook his head shortly, his eyes darkening, "I…I must be dreaming." He insisted in an even hoarser tone. He began to cough harshly and the king hurried to slide an arm under his shoulders, easing him up into raised position and placing another pillow under his head. He pressed the rim of a mug against his friend's cracked lips, tipping it back.

"I promise you that this is no dream!" Aragorn said firmly as helped him take a few sips of fresh water. "You are now safe." The elf gave a small shudder, and locked eyes with the human, his disbelief clear.

"Bu it is impossible. There is _no_ possible way…" Legolas declared dully, turning his face away and into the pillow. "Dirhéal swore…" but whatever the man had told the elf, Aragorn didn't find out for Legolas trailed off, staring unseeingly at the far wall with a fearful expression on his face.

"Legolas, Dirhéal is not going to come near you ever again," Aragorn promised, reaching out and grasping both of the elf's' hand in his and squeezing them tightly as if the simple action could convene all his feelings. Legolas looked back at him, hesitation written expressively across his face. Slowly, with trepidation, he wrapped his fingers around the king's and gave him a weak smile. Aragorn smiled back, packing as much reassurance and comfort into the as he could, before leaning in and lightly touching their foreheads together. This familiar gesture more than anything seemed to calm and convince the elf that he really was safe. Legolas slowly allowed his tense muscles to relax and leaned further into the fluffy pillows, letting their softness cushion his aching body.

"But…" he began to protest again, his heart thumping as he looked around the room. Aragorn shook his head, shhing him gently as he placed a finger against his lips.

"Get some more sleep, you have a long ways to go before you can even consider getting out of bed," he stated, leaning back again and giving the elf more room. Legolas' hand shot out, wrapping his fingers feebly around Aragorn's wrist.

"Don't leave me," he whispered imploring, his dark blue eyes silently telling the man that he was scared. Scared that he really was dreaming, and that everything would fade back to the dark, wet, and cold cell that had been his own personal torment for the last month.

"I won't leave," Aragorn said in quiet understanding, reaching out and taking the elf's hand once more. Legolas gripped it as hard as he could manage and heaved a shuddering breath, allowing his heavy eyelids to slip close. The man next to him began to hum again and it wasn't long before Legolas drifted back to sleep.

Slowly easing his hand out of Legolas' he winced as the elf started and moved quickly to calm him back down before he could awaken. A smile he couldn't contain began to inch across his face and he leaned back in his chair, resisting the urge to laugh. Legolas had awoken, and knew who he was. They were the past the worst.

NOFINERFRIENDS

A week had passed since Legolas' rescue, and Madoc and Dirhéal had managed to remain at large despite the large man hunt out for the former. The duo had hidden out in one of the old, run down inns that didn't ask question instead of fleeing town like most sensible people would. But sense never did play a part of Dirheal's plans.

He was determined to kill the elf, and Madoc wanted his money. For as far as they were concerned, Aragorn had had his week to give them the money. The fact that Legolas was no longer their prisoner did little to hinder their planning, deciding to simply work around that small obstacle. And the best part was that Aragorn would never dare think that they will dare launch an attack in one of the most fortified areas of the Minis Tirith.

TBC...

 **Oh... I beat you guys say that one coming! ;)**

 **Review Replies:**

 **Elven Princess:** Haha, I am sure that he will as well. Well...at least by the end of the story he will be. :) Well, this chapter didn't stop with the cliffies... I don't think I will ever be able to stop with the cliffies. It is like ingrained in me. Thanks!

 **Nameless:** Reunions are the best!I love writing them, of course. :) Is wrong that a tiny part of my soul is happy that I am able to make you cry? No, there is nothing wrong with me whatsoever. :) Thanks!

 **feuilleblanche:** No, thank you! Once a week, maybe more, you never now. Sometimes I am generous, you can look for an update. I am very happy that you are enjoying it this much, though!

 **Bridge Sutcliffe:** Haha, you have fallen prey to my cliffies. :) And I just threw another one right at ya. And the next chapter isn't going to be any better. Ah, well. Cliffies are amazing, at least to the writer. Thanks so much!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N I love guys. :) That is why I am giving up the chance for a nap so that I can post. If that isn't love, then I don't know what is. ;)**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Nine

Aragorn rotated his head, standing to ease some of the weariness and soreness in his own body that come from sitting in chair for several hours. Looking down, at the still elf in the bed, he frowned. It had only been a week since the elf's rescue, but he was only showing marginal improvement. The fever had left him completely, but he still spent most of his time sleeping.

Clasping the prince's shoulder lightly, the king rubbed at face. Exhaustion was creeping up on him and he longed to go find his own bed, as it was well past mid-night, but Legolas needed him here. The window, which was open in an effort to coax Legolas into a sense of security, allowed a dart of cold air to sweep through the room and Aragorn shivered. He thought about getting up to close the window, but thought better of it. The fresh air was doing just as much good for the elf as all the herbs and bandages the king could provide.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took in Legolas' gaunt face. How he hated to think of Legolas' being a prisoner underground and in the dark, for more than a month. He had been all alone, no one had been there to help him along. Resting his chin on his fist, Aragorn felt his emotions rising. Where was he when Legolas had needed him? He had been safe, warm, secure. He had been happy. All the while, Legolas had been miles under his feet, in pain and in fear.

Aragorn abruptly rose to his feet, pacing the now well-known path by the elf's bed as he wrung his hands. Legolas let out a small sound in his sleep and his head twisted slowly to the side, facing the open window. Aragorn slowed, a wan smile touching his lips. Yet here Legolas was. He was far from well, but he had again survived with a stubbornness that could only come form him.

Legolas moaned again, his eyes moving under their lids as he shifted, only to let out a sharp gasp and flinch away as he jostled on of his many injuries.

"Legolas?" Aragorn stopped his restless pacing, and crouched near the prince. The elf didn't stir again and he rose. The prince would have to wake soon and be given another dose of painkiller, but if he could sleep a little longer, than it certainly wouldn't hurt matters. Moving over to the small table, the king began to shift through it's contents of herbs. His fingers worked quickly and efficiently, but a frown suddenly darkened his face and he stopped. He didn't have enough remaining herbs to mix up another batch of medicine, he was going to have to go get some more.

Striding back over to the bed, he clasped the elf's shoulder. "I'll be back, just give me ten minutes, _mellon-nin."_ Taking one of the two candles lighting the room he placed the other closer to Legolas, just in case he woke, before hurrying to the door and closing it softly behind him.

All was still. Except, that was, the candle. Aragorn had unthinkingly placed it right in the wind stream, and it began to flicker, dancing back and forth with vigor until with a slightly stronger gush of air, it went out, plunging the room into blackness.

It was as if an inner alarm went off in the prince's system as his eyes jerked open. Finding himself starting up into nothing but blackness, Legolas breath caught and his heart froze.

"Aragorn!" He hated the fear that was in his voice but he could not help it. He reached blindly out for his friend, his fingers grasping at nothing as his breathing rate began to increase. The darkness was crushing him, he couldn't see, couldn't breath. Any moment Dirheal was going to come, he hadn't escaped, he hadn't been saved. It had all been a dream. Panic was crashing over him waves and Legolas began to gasp. He clutched at his hair as he rolled into a tight ball, not realized in his state that he was free from all bonds and that a warm, comfortable, bed was beneath his body rather than water and stone.

"Estel!" he rasped out as his breathing rate only continued to increase. Yet no reply was made to his desperate plea and he stiffed a low sob. He couldn't breath, he couldn't move. Everything around him faded and the overwhelming blackness converged upon him, chocking him and snuffing out all else. Therefore, he didn't hear the door open or see the flood of light that was closely followed by a sharp exclamation of his name.

Aragorn was moving before he even really knew what was happening. He had opened the door to find the room dark but as his own candle illuminated the area he had instantly caught sight of the elf. Leoglas had rolled himself into a ball and his hands were clutching his head, as if to ward off an attack. His heart sinking quicker than he thought possible, Aragorn dropped to his knees by the bed and grabbed the elf's hands, wrestling them free.

"Legolas, Leoglas, come one, look at me," he commanded, further trying to uncurl the elf. But Legolas was lost into another world and he had folded into himself so tightly that the healer couldn't move him with force. "Legolas, I am trying to help." Squeezing his hand inbetween the elf's bunched together limbs, he found the elf's neck. His pulse was racing erratically and as he slipped his hand over the prince's mouth he found himself shocked at the rate of intake.

"Legolas, you are hyperventilating, I need you to calm down." The elf still did not recognize him and Aragorn shook his head. Force was going to necessary. Prying the prince's body out of the ball just enough be able to work with him, Aragorn positioned himself so that the elf would have to go around him to curl back up before clamping his hand over Legolas' mouth and nose,cutting off his air supply. Legolas jerked and his eyes flew open to gaze with unveiled panic at the man. Aragorn only smiled soothingly, letting go long enough for Legolas to pull in a gasp of air before once again closing off his air supply. The terror and fear slowly began to fade from the elf's eyes as Aragorn continued to apply the method. He would cut off the elf's air for a few seconds, allow him to take a breath, and repeat it again until his breathing had to returned to something more resembling normal. It was still to fast, but Aragonr was satisfied and lent back, keeping a hand on the elf's shaking shoulder for support.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. Legolas nodded shakily, though it didn't escape the man notice that he once again curled up into a loose ball. "No, you are not."

"I'm fine, Estel," Legolas whispered softly. He didn't meet the man's eyes as the ranger pulled the blankets up to cover him, but sighed. "I-I just wasn't...prepared." He gave the the king a wan smile as he took a steadying breath.

"I'm sorry, Legolas. I stepped out for just a minute to grab more herbs. I left a candle burning..." the man trailed off, rubbing his chin as he looked at the now smoking candle. "I'm sorry."

"No...no it not your fault. I-I,"

"Don't you dare apologize," Aragorn warned, pointed his finger threateningly towards the elf. Legolas fell silent and the man simply wrapped his arms around him. He laid his head against the elf's arm and they didn't move for the longest time as Legolas found comfort in the assurance that he wasn't alone, that this wasn't a dream. He was still shaking when he finally voiced some of what he was feeling.

"I hated the dark worst of all." Aragorn looked at him,nodding slowly. Legolas scoffed, and the man tightened his grip on him. "I...I almost," he broke off and Aragorn raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to go one. "I almost looked forward to Dirheal's 'visiting' me because at least I had light then. But then he would leave and I would be in the dark once again with no hope of getting out." His voice was stiff, and Aragorn could only shake his head dumbly. They remained that way for the better part of the night, until Aragorn had calmed both of their souls enough for Legolas to slip into an fitful sleep and for him to be able to let the elf go.

NOFINERFRIENDS

Knocking loudly on the door, Madoc cleared his throat, holding his hands behind his back as he announced himself to the room at large. The first part of their plan was well underway. His blue messenger's uniform that had been stolen from its original owner itched slightly and he had to curl his hand into fist to keep them from attacking the cloth. How normal messengers went around with this every day, he would never know.

"Yes?" Aragorn asked, sounding slightly annoyed with the interruption as he turned around to face him. There was no spark of recognition in his eyes and Madoc smiled inwardly. The king placed a steaming bowl of broth onto the table and the assassin assumed that Aragorn had been trying to wake the elf to eat… _his last meal_ he couldn't help but thinking.

"I am to deliver a message to the king from Faramir, Steward of Gondor," Madoc intoned professionally, pitching his voice higher to better add to the disguise. Aragorn nodded, waving a hand for him to continue, which Madoc did, steadily meeting the king's eyes as he did so, "He says that he needs to talk to you about an urgent issue that has come up."

"Did he say what was so important?" Aragorn asked, as his face tightening in worry before he glanced behind him at the motionless elf. Madoc would have smiled gleefully, but chose instead to answer the king's question.

"No, he said that it was a matter for only the King's ears. He wants you to follow me," he said, pushing gently. Aragorn again let out a sigh and gnawed slowly at his lower lip, glancing between Legolas and the door. Madoc could almost see the moment that Aragorn made his decision.

"Fine, give me just a moment." Standing up, the king turned back to Legolas' side and let his hand hover over the elf's shoulder. "Leoglas?" Madoc had to fight to remain calm as the elf stirred, his eyes flickering open after a couple of prods from the man. "Legolas, I am going to step, alright? I shouldn't be gone long." Legolas nodded once to show that he heard. His eyes remained focused trustingly on the king and Madoc smirked.

Quickly the assassin and the king left the room, Madoc leading the way. He hoped in to give Dirhéal, who was lurking in healing halls, enough time to finish the job.

NOFINERFRIENDS

Eldarion scampered hurriedly down the corridor, glancing behind him with an almost guiltily expression as he did so. He had escaped from his mother while he was supposed to be taking a nap, and half feared that she had heard him and was going to follow. She would then stop him from going to see his father at the healing halls, where he had expressly been forbidden to go without an adult.

 _But Ada is there!_ Eldarion justified to himself, _As well as Uncle Legolas!_ Grinning at the thought, the small boy added a small skip to his step as he passed a large, old looking painting that decorated the walls. _Maybe Uncle Gimli would be there as well and they could play together, or even better, maybe Uncle Elladan and Elrohir could come and they could all play!_

These happy thoughts erased the lingering guilt over escaping and directly disobeying his mother, and the boy continued on his merry way, swinging his arms as he walked. Nearing the healing halls, Eldarion slowed his pace, the guilt and maybe a little bit of fear creeping back up and installing itself in his heart. What would his father say if he knew that he had disobeyed his mother? After all, Ada had talks with him if he showed Nana, what was it, oh, disrespect. Men, true good men, respected women.

 _Ada won't be mad_ , Eldarion decided as he stood on his tip-toes and turning the brass handle down. _Mommy said after all that he wanted to see me, just couldn't, so I am just making it easy for him._

The door handle clicked and with all his might, the young boy pushed it open just far enough so that he could slip in, before letting it go with a relieved sigh.

Trotting down the pristine hallway, the boy peered in door after door, looking for his father's familiar form. Instead, he found other healers, or sometimes common folk, gathered around bedsides that contained just as various people. Finally, a kindly old healer woman took pity on him and pointed him in the right direction.

Finding the door he wanted, the young prince again reached up on his tip-toes and silently pushed it open. The door was much lighter than the first door had been and it opened without a squeak. Eldarion peered through the gap he had made ready to run into the chamber and climb up onto his father's lap.

However, it wasn't his daddy who was bending over the figure on the bed, it was a guard. Backing hastily out, Eldarion was just about to assume that he had the wrong room yet again when the solider moved slightly and he caught a flash of golden hair. Uncle Legolas had hair like that! Out of curiosity, Eldarion lifted himself up on his tip-toes. To his great astonishment, he found that is was indeed Uncle Legolas on the bed.

Opening his mouth to shout out in excitement, the boy froze, the cry dying before it left his lips. Some was wrong, horribly so, with his Uncle.

His face wasn't its normal color, but a strange rather purple color instead and his eyes were bugging out in way that scared the young prince. Hunching back up against the door with fear, the boy's eyes flew to the guard's hand which were wrapped tightly around his uncle's throat and felt his stomach seize up. He got in trouble if he ever tried to grab someone by their neck.

As he watch, unnoticed by the door, Legolas began to writhe, freeing himself abruptly form the other man's grip.

What was the guard doing? Why wasn't he helping the elf who was obviously in trouble? The men who had sworn themselves to Gondor always helped him if he needed help. Just as Eldarion was about to scream out for the man to do something, the guard blurted out a word that Eldarion knew was a naughty word to say.

"Hold still!" the man growled, adding the word onto the end again. The man swung atop the bed, straddling the elf and wrestling with him as Legolas tried to lunge away. To the boy's horror, he slammed his friend forcefully up against the wall. Legolas wasn't fighting back very well and the sound of flesh hitting flesh rang out with a smack. The man raised his fist again and Eldarion wanted to turn away, but he was rooted to the spot. He watched as the man hit his Uncle again and again. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach grew and Eldarion slunk back, unable to watch anymore. Letting the door shut softly behind him he flinched and covered his ears as another strike sounded.

Turning away, he hurried down the corridor, the earlier bounce in his step gone. Where was his Ada? His Ada could fix all of this, he fixed everything. What that man was doing couldn't be right, it just couldn't. Eldarion began to run, faster than even when he was trying to escape his nap and practically flew through the healing halls and back through the doors. From there he just ran full out. He didn't know where he was going, because he didn't know where his father was, but he had to run.

It was a miracle that Eldarion found Aragon as swiftly as he did, for it seemed that he had barely began to run when he heard raised voices. Veering over in that direction, the young prince found himself out in the garden's of Minis Tirith where everything, except the colorful flowers, seemed to tower over him. Running on, he used his finely turned ears to follow the argument, which he was almost sure involved his father's voice.

Sure enough, when Eldarion crashed into an enclosed clearing he found his Ada in a deep argument with another man, who appeared to be a messenger. Crying aloud with relief, Eldarion pumped his short legs even faster until he collided with his father's legs and hugged them tightly.

"Eldarion? What is wrong?" Aragon asked in concern as he looked down in surprise. Instantly he dropped his previous conversation and bent down to be at eye level with his son. Big, fat, tears streaked his fear filled, yet innocent, face and Aragorn gently wiped them away. "Are you hurt?"

"Ada…" Eldarion moaned, clutching his father who embraced him, holding his head against his chest and making soft, soothing sounds. "Something, something is wrong with Uncle Legolas!" he whimpered between shuddering sobs.

Aragorn's eyes grew wide and his mouth opened, his face softening inexplicitly, "Son," he began, thinking that Eldarion had gotten a glimpse of the tortured elf.

"And –and the m-man! I think he was h-hurting him!" Eldarion wailed over his father, more tears leaking from his large, grey eyes. Aragorn froze, confusion playing across his face. Behind him Madoc let his eyes slip shut with horror and disbelief. Of all the things to ruin their plans, it had to be a child.

"What do you mean, Eldarion?" Aragorn asked quietly, his gaze boring into his little boy's face.

"They were, were wrestling; only it d-didn't look like w-when we do!" Eldarion balled, one small pudgy hand coming up and scrubbing at his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. He was scared, really scared, of what he had seen. He had never truly felt this bone deep fear before and wasn't quite sure how to deal with it.

Aragorn's mouth dropped open and he started at the boy in terror.

"No," he whispered, his heart starting to pound as he realized what was happening. "No!" he exclaimed again, louder this time.

"I'm not lying, Daddy!" Eldarion wailed, but Aragorn was no longer listening. Turning, he started to run, only to swivel back and pulled his still crying son up into his arms. Clutching his small, trembling body close, he took off once more. The "messenger" followed along behind, an ugly look on his dark face.

 _No, no, no! This is all wrong!_ Aragorn thought as he pumped his legs as hard as he could. He had promised Legolas that he would be safe, that no one would harm him. Had he both lied to and failed his friend? Oh, why hadn't he posted guards around Legolas' room! He knew that Dirhéal was still at large and that he might try and make another attempt on the elf's life, but he had never thought that he would try it in the middle of Minis Tirith. Legolas was now paying for his error in judgment, perhaps with his life.

It seemed to take far too long for Aragorn to reach the healing halls, each second that flew by reminding him that Legolas could already be dead.

Reaching the rooms at last, the king burst through the doors savagely, causing Eldarion to scream something as he clutched at his father's tunic for dear life. Aragorn kept running, flashing past doors as they tried to reach Legolas' rooms. What in Middle-earth had he been thinking, placing Legolas so far down the corridor!

He skidded to a stop just before he slammed into the door that led into Legolas' room. Remembering the child in his arms, he twisted around and shoved the protesting boy into the messenger's arms who had almost crashed into him when he had stopped.

"Take him far away from here," Aragorn ordered. "Take him to his mother." With that, he forced the door opened and barged in. When he did, he found that what Eldarion had told him was true, horribly so.

Dirhéal was perched on the bed, straddling the elf as he slowly suffocated the life out of him with a pillow. A gleeful look shone on his face and Aragorn felt sick, especially on seeing that Legolas wasn't even aware enough to fight back.

"You!" Aragorn bellowed, making Dirhéal jump and twist, his grip loosening momentarily on the pillow. The king charged forward and Madoc entered the room behind him, dropping the child on the cold, hard, floor as he did so. Eldarion remained curled up where he had fallen in terror, watching the action through his fingers.

Dirhéal lunged forward right as Aragorn came hurtling towards him and they collided at the edge of the bed. Aragorn's force carried them backwards and into the wall, where they crumpled in a heap of swinging arms and legs on top of the bed. They began to wrestle violently for control, each trying to gain the upper-hand anyway possible.

Legolas, meanwhile, was still in a dangerous place. Though the barely conscious elf had managed to push away the pillow that had been suffocating him and take a strained breath, Aragorn and Dirhéal where crushing him. Gagging once on his lack of air as they rolled over him, Legolas weakly pushed at their pair, mouthing Aragorn's name as a wheezing rasp left his lips.

Madoc swear loudly behind them and reached into his chest pocket, drawing out a four inch dagger. He, for one, wasn't going to die today. Moving in quickly, he was about to target Aragorn when he half tripped over the huddled form of the king's son. Staggering to regain his balance, the assassin again cursed, pushing the child over harshly with his foot. Suddenly, his eyes flew back to latch on the boy and a sly grin crept over his face. They had lost control of the situation, and the rules that he strictly followed were being shoved out the door. He was sorry for child, but his life was more important at the moment.

Legolas, Aragorn, and Dirhéal fell to the floor with an window rattling crash as the bed tipped under their combined weight and sent them cascading down to the ground along with a shower of blankets and pillows. The linen further hampered their movements as it captured their limbs and for moment the two concentrated on freeing themselves rather than killing the other.

Aragorn managed to disentangle himself first and grabbed Dirhéal by the shirt collar, slamming him forcefully back into the stone ground with a sickening crack. The man was momentarily stunned as blood began to leak from the nasty gash to the back of his temple, and Aragorn leaned back, using the advantage he had gained to catch his own breath. Less than a minute later, they had latched back onto each other and where rolling across the floor, locked in a deadly embrace.

Legolas lay in a heap, half-way under the tilted bed as he struggled to draw in enough air to satisfy his worn and battered body. Some of his wounds had reopened and crimson stains were being to dot his shirt. Closing his eyes, he let out a gritted moan, trying to ignore the fresh pain blooming through his body. Before he could do so, however, a high pitched, terrified scream cut through the air.

TBC...

 **Oh dear. Dirheal and Madoc are back at it. Tsk, tsk. The end is near, however, so I can't drag it on forever.**

 **Review Replies:**

feuilleblanche: The final chapter is coming soon! Well, you still have a few chapters left, but we are getting close to the end. Thanks!

Elven Princess: Haha, that pretty much sums it up! I love my cliffies, partly because it keeps the readers coming back. Books don't have to do as many because their readers are more likely to come back, if you get what I am saying. Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N Well, well, well. The last chapter didn't end to prettily. Maybe this chapter will brighten the day for our hero's, though. :)**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Ten

Legolas forced his heavy eyes open and jolted his tired body upright. The action alone was enough to make his head spin sickeningly and his wounds awake with a fiery agony, but what he saw turned his heart to ice. Eldarion was struggling against Madoc who head a knife pressed against the little boy's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Let 'im go!" Legolas slurred out in a whisper, his abused throat unwilling to corporate with what he wanted it to do. The hate in his blazing eyes, however, was untouched by his weakness and Madoc had to steel himself from taking a step back. Legolas gripped the side of the bed and began to attempt to ease himself up, even though he was weary down to the bone.

"You! You where the second man!" Aragorn snarled out in shock, freeing himself form Dirhéal and starting towards Madoc with unbridled fury, his attention completely focused on his son. Madoc laughed, and began to shuffle backwards, keeping the young prince in front of him.

"You have lost!" he jeered, grabbing Eldarion by the hair and forcing his head back so that his throat was exposed, "Don't think that I won't slit his throat if either of you move," he warned darkly. Eldarion let out a shuddering sob and Aragorn whispered his name softly in desperation. What happened next took the King by such a surprise that he hardly had time to register the blur of movement behind him before something crashed over his head and everything went black.

Dirhéal stepped away from the crumpled form of the king with a grin and tossed aside the remaining shards of the bottle he had just used to hit Aragorn over the head with.

"Now what?" he asked Madoc, easily overriding Legolas' ragged whispers of denial and insults as the injured elf struggled to find enough energy to get to his downed friend's side. Eldarion was crying harder than ever, but with the knife pressed against this throat, he dared not call out to his father.

"Here, take the boy! I will finish the job on both the elf and the king," Madoc snapped through a whisper. He feared that they had already created too much noise and that someone might come to see what was happening. Shoving Eldarion none to gently to the other man, Madoc hurried towards the downed king, his favorite knife clutched tightly. Eldarion began to scream for his Ada through the rough hand that Dirhéal had clamped over his mouth.

"Take another step towards him and I will kill you!" Legolas breathed darkly form his corner. By some miracle, the prince had managed to pull himself into a half upright position, leaning his full weight against the upturned bed. In his violently trembling hand he grasped a small, but sharp, knife which Aragorn had used for cutting bandages.

Madoc laughed sneeringly, turning his attention to the elf instead.

"You can't even stand properly, how do you except to kill me?" he jeered, twirling his own weapon menacingly as he paced over and stood in front of the struggling elf. Legolas glared defiantly up, even as sweat began to bead his brow from the effort of reaming upright.

"Go kiss an orc!" he spat, much to Madoc and Dirhéal's amusement. Behind them, Aragorn began to stir. If Legolas could only keep the two men distracted for a little longer… _"Ie amia holma ve_ ," he whispered with as much hatred and spite that he could muster. He slipped lower against the bed and leaned further back against the wood, panting heavily. Aragorn rose like a ghost in the background and began to creep forward, flexing his fingers in preparation for the fight that was about to happen. /At least I don't smell like a fish/

 _It is a good thing that you have such a hard head, my friend,_ Legolas mused, opening his mouth to deliver another insult. That was when it happened. Madoc had had more than enough. Raising his arm he jumped towards the elf, aiming his shinning danger for the center of the elf's open nightshirt, right where his heart was.

Legolas had a mere second to react and out of natural instinct that came with being a warrior as long as he had, he let go of the bed and attacked back. Lunging forward with the small medical instrument clutched tightly, the elf thrust it upwards. Their bodies connected and both knives meet flesh.

Legolas let out a yell as Madoc's weapon sliced through his arm and slammed back into the wooden bed, pinning him there as well. His own knife jerked violently in his weak grasp as it entered Madoc's upper belly, entering in through the hilt, and then was wrenched from his grasp as the assassin crashed into him. The elf cried out again as the knife in his arm was jerked forcefully, tearing further into his flesh.

Madoc landed against the elven prince and remained still. The sheets and bed linen surrounded the pair quickly began to turn an ominous crimson color, the stains spreading far too rapidly.

Eldarion began to scream hysterically, his shrill sobs of terror drowning out Aragorn's own cry of fear. They didn't know whose blood was staining the ground, nor could they clearly see who had been injured. All they knew was that Legolas had been hurt and that neither elf nor man was moving.

Dirhéal numbly let go of the prince of Gondor and backed towards the door. His partner was either dead or would soon be, he was alone. Turning to flee, the man came to nose to nose with an incredibly angry King of Gondor, who had blood dripping down the side of his face from the nasty gash to his head.

"You can beg for mercy or you can fight. Either way you lose." Aragorn whispered as fire flew from his grey eyes like Mt. Doom itself. He slowly advanced forward, forcing the other man to back pedal or be trampled. Dirhéal sneered in an imitation of his normal bravado and curled his upper lip, spitting in Aragorn's face.

"I would rather die!"

"You might just get that wish!" Aragorn returned, raising his voice to be heard over Eldarion's continuous shrieks. By now the sound of pounding feet could be heard streaking down the corridor towards them and Dirhéal knew that this time was up. Someone had heard the commotion and sounded the alert. Springing forward, he roughly shoved Aragorn aside, causing him to rock back unsteadily and slam into the nearby white wall. Dirhéal wrenched the door open and charged out like a mad bull, only to find himself running into a pack of soldiers who had their swords drawn and at the ready.

It was too late to do anything. With a look of terror stretching his face, Dirhéal tried to slide to a stop, tried to scramble back into the healing room, but in the next instant he had been run through like a piece of meat on the first soldiers outstretched sword. The man wore a similar expression of horror, but couldn't do anything to stop. The traitor was dead before the sword reappeared through his back, the weapon having gone straight through his black heart.

Aragorn missed it all. Having fallen to all fours after hitting the wall, the king crawled swiftly towards his screaming son, who was sitting where he had been dropped seeming petrified. His wide eyes were staring at the blood covered ground with horror.

"Shh, Eldarion, it is alright now. No one is going to hurt you," Aragorn murmured, gathering his child up into arms and squeezing him lovingly. The boy continued to sob and buried his face into his father's tunic, allowing him to just hold his shaking body, "Eldarion," the king whispered once again, stroking his dark hair as he rocked gently back and forth. His eyes flickered nervously towards the pile the still bodies by the bed and his heart gave a nasty lurch, "You have been such a big boy today, I am so proud of you. But I need you to let me go so that I can care for Uncle Legolas, alright?" He was forced to raise his voice as the sounds of the guards trying to figure out what was going on with a lot more shouting then he deemed necessary.

Eldarion began to cry all the harder and clung to Aragorn, unwilling to let go, "Please, Ada, don't leave me!" he begged as more tears slipped from his wide eyes and damped Aragorn's shoulder.

"I won't, I'll be right here, but Uncle Legolas needs my help _right now_ ," Aragorn pressed, trying to convey the urgent situation in a way that the little boy would understand. He glanced once again at the blood staining the ground…there was so much blood, and he didn't know how much of it was Legolas'. Gently, but quickly, he pried Eldarion's arms off from around his neck and placed him back on the floor, squeezing his hand softly.

"I'm just going to go right over here. Nothing is going to happen to you," he assured, touching the child's quiver lower lip tenderly to stop the scream that appeared to be forming again. "Trust me." He waited until Eldarion nodded, and then pulled away, his attention now completely focused on the two figures on the floor.

"Legolas! Legolas answer me!" he called urgently, reaching the pale elf's side. Madoc was laying a top the elf and the man rolled him off. A strange gurgling was coming from the assassin and Aragorn only had to get on look at his grey face and blank eyes to know that he wasn't long for this world.

"Aragorn…" Legolas wheezed raggedly beside him and the man's heart leapt. He turned back to the elf just in time to watch his eyelids flickering open, revealing glazed, diluted eyes.

"Legolas, are you hurt, where are you hurt?" the man demanded, his eyes instantly locking onto the knife that was pinning his friend to the wood. He reached out, his fingers gentle as he pulled back the blood stained material. Legolas drew in a sharp breathe, his eyes drifting tightly shut against the onslaught of pain.

The gurgling next to them increased and Aragorn turned his attention to the man, keeping one hand on Legolas' arm. Madoc's lips parted with another gurgle and wet blood began to drip swiftly from the corner of his mouth. And then he stilled in the dreadful stillness that only death could provide. A bubble of blood formed at his lips, and then with a burst it pop and Aragorn knew that the assassin was dead. Reaching out, Aragorn slide the man's eyes shut.

"E-Eldarion?" Legolas asked haltingly, regaining Aragorn's attention as he tugged feebly on the man's sleeve. "Is, is he safe?"

"Shh, don't talk." Aragorn shushed; laying his blood coated fingers lightly against the elf's lips to further stall any words, "Eldarion is safe, we are both fine." Someone tapped him on the shoulder and the king jumped lightly, twisting to see who it was.

"My Lord, you have to leave," a solider ordered, trying to pull the king upright by the arm.

"I am fine, no one else is going to try and attack me." Aragorn augured shrugging the hand off, "What I need to do is take care of Legolas. Remove the bodies then come back for more orders." He glared softly at the man as if daring him to contradict his command. When the man turned helplessly to do what his king had asked, Aragorn turned back to his injured friend, his face considerably softer.

"Legolas, I need you to stay awake," he said hurriedly to the elf whose eyes had slipped close at the inattention. With what seemed to be a massive effort, Legolas pried his eyelids open, squinting up at his friend with exhaustion written in the lines of his face. "Just for a little longer, then you can sleep to your heart's content," Aragorn assured as he reached down and gently touched the rapidly forming finger shaped bruises around the elf's throat, wincing as he did so.

"Eldarion is alright?" Legolas repeated distractedly, leaning his head back against the wood he let his eyes slip close despite Aragorn's earlier order.

"Yes, yes he is." Aragorn reassured, ripping open the elf's night shirt so that he could better see the knife wound. Probing the wound with careful fingers, he frowned, "Brace yourself, Legolas, this is going to hurt." With that, he pressed his hand against the elf's shoulder to hold him still, and grasped the knife still embedded in the skin and yanked back hard.

The knife came free with a sickening squelch and a spurt of blood and Legolas tensed, grinding his teeth together to keep from crying out. Aragorn covered the wound with his hand, adding pressure to stop the bleeding.

"That wasn't much of a warning…" Legolas grumbled through his teeth in elvish, panting lightly. Now that the knife was no longer there to hold him up, he began to slide weakly down towards the floor, leaving a wet stain of crimson behind him. Aragorn helped ease him down so that he was laying on his side and then went back to adding pressure to the wound with part of a sheet, a soft smile on his face.

"At least I gave you one. Sometimes I don't," he reminded, lifting the cloth slowly, before pressing back down. Legolas stifled a groan. They were silent for the few minutes, Legolas too exhausted to speak and Aragorn to busy working.

"Estel…" Legolas finally whispered breathlessly. Aragorn looked up anxiously just in time to catch the elf's next words, "I think I am going to pass out…" The perfectly white elf moaned as he let his head loll to the side, resting it upon some of the nearby sheets.

"No, don't do that!" Aragorn urged, scrambling to his feet and looking around the trashed healing room for some of his favored herbs. Eldarion, meanwhile, had managed to shake himself partly out of the terror that had encased his limbs and refused to let him more. Crawling forward towards his Uncle Legolas, he sat gingerly down beside the elf. Reaching out he gently began to pet the golden hair, sniffing lightly as he glanced nervously.

"Uncle Legolas, are you going to be alight?" he asked in a thick, choked voice.

"Of course, little one," Legolas replied, feebly forcing his eyes open and focusing on the child though the effort obviously cost him. This seemed enough to satisfy the young prince, however, and Eldarion lay down next to his friend, curling up against the side of the elf that wasn't covered in blood.

"Good," he said, laying his head on the elf's outstretched arm. A second later, Legolas' head tipped to the side and his eyes rolled back into his head.

"Legolas!' Aragorn called a moment later, dropping back next to his friend witha tin clutched tightly in his fist. When he saw that Legolas had given in, he stopped unscrewing the lid, a painful fondness lighting his eyes, "Get some rest," he murmured, looking at the pair.

"Will he be alright?" Eldarion asked tiredly, cuddling closer to the prince's side.

"I believe that he will be, if he gives himself time to rest and recover." Aragorn replied gently, ripping one of the sheets into bandages and packing it firmly against the prince's still bleeding arm.

"Sire?" the solider was back, standing at attention. The bodies of Madoc and Dirhéal had been removed and several servants had entered into the room, beginning to clean up the dreadful mess.

Aragorn looked up, biting his lips indecisively, his mind split in two. He needed to take care of Legolas and his injuries, that much was clear, but Eldarion also need his love and care…Making his decision, the king opened his mouth.

"Please stay with Lord Legolas, keep pressure on his wound," he ordered, changing places with the man. "I'll be back within fifteen mintues." Bending low, he gently planted a kiss on Legolas' brow, a promise that he wouldn't be gone long.

Gathering Eldarion up in his arms tenderly, he hugged him close as he hurried to find Arwen. The queen would be able to calm their son and spread the word that Legolas' captors where dead, leaving him free to return to the injured elf's side.

TBC...

 **So you guys want to know what is funny? Before this story, I never missed updating. I hadn't had to skip an update in like two stories before this one. And now I am doing it to you not once, not twice, but three times. That is correct. Sadly, I am the course of moving and I will be traveling Friday and will not be updating. But I swear that this should be the last time for a while that I can't update.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N Well, I think I can promise that you won't get anymore late updates this story. *knocks on wood***

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Chapter Eleven

After giving Eldarion to his mother and quickly explaining to Arwen what had happened, Aragorn rushed to return to Legolas' side. The small boy had put up a fuss at first when he had learned that his father was going to leave him, but had settled down once he was snuggled safely in his mother's loving arms. It would be a while, Aragorn knew, before Eldarion would overcome the experience. The King proceeded back towards the healing halls and was nearing the door when someone, a guard according to his uniform, crashed through the door and straight into him, causing both to tumble back to the ground in a heap.

"My Lord!" came a shocked and rather appalled voice as the men disentangled themselves from each other. Jumping up, the solider offered a hand to the former ranger, who took it and pulled himself up. The guard stood straight, snapping to attention. "Forgive me, your highness. I was sent to find you as quickly as possible." Aragorn's heart dropped as his thoughts flashed to Legolas. "What is it, what has happened?" he asked in an undertone, stepping forward so that he and the other man where only a few feet apart.

"It's the elf, sir," the guard replied, confirming the king's fear, but before the king could do anything, the man continued, "He was awoken and isn't cooperating."To the soldier's great surprise, Aragorn smiled widely, shaking his head with fond disbelief.

"Some things never do change," he murmured, sliding past the man and turning back to a call a thank you over his shoulder. Of course Legolas would be giving the other healers trouble, he never cooperated with healers, Aragorn included, even after all these years.

Hurrying down the corridor, the smile slipped a little. Raised voices could be heard from the direction that he had left Legolas and sure enough, he was soon able to make out his friend's voice. The prince was shouting out in elvish and Aragorn frowned. Abruptly he realized that the solider had it all wrong. Legolas wasn't being difficult for the healers, he was panicking. Now running down the hallway, he pushed the door open and found that he was right.

The elf was weakly struggling on the floor, fighting against a healer that was holding him down with ease. His eyes flew around the room, desperately searching for something. Or someone, Aragorn realized as he noted that Legolas' crystal blue eyes only latched onto people before flicking away.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called firmly, pushing his way through to his friend's side and dropping to his knees. "Be calm, _mellon-nin_ , there is nothing to worry about." Reaching out, he touched Legolas' cheek and instantly the elf's turned his head and locked his gaze on Aragorn's. The prince stilled his body relaxing against the hard wooden floor.

"You are alive?" Legolas whispered in shock, "Madoc was going to…and Eldarion…"

"We are both perfectly alright," Aragorn comforted, using the grey tongue to further calm the elf as he gently cupped the side of his face. "Both Dirhéal and Madoc, did you say his name was, are dead." Legolas began to shake his head fervently but stopped, remembrance entering into his eyes.

"Oh…oh yes," he said sheepishly, bushing lighting in embarrassment. Aragorn shrugged, knowing all too well the panic of awakening after something like this. The fear that coursed through one's veins like poison, the terror that everything had ended much more differently.

"Do you think you can walk?" the king asked, glancing around at the destroyed room. It was unfit for a pig to sleep in, never mind an injured elven prince. Legolas automatically nodded and attempted to slowly ease himself up right.

Aragorn cringed for the elf, wishing that the prince wouldn't tax himself so readily, and slipped his hands under the Legolas' armpits. He hoisted his still weak friend onto his feet with one strong, sure, movement. The Lord of Ithilien hissed sharply, swaying dangerously at the change in position, and his face blanched.

The king didn't let him fall, though, and heaved the frail being up against him.

"Are you well enough?" he asked hesitantly, knowing that the prince would refuse to be carried if offered. Legolas didn't answer right away as he stood there, eyes closed and face taught, trying to control his body into doing what he wanted it too. After Aragorn repeated the question with the amount of worry in his voice increasing, Legolas turned to him. He gave the man a faint smile, I'll be fine, it clearly read.

Aragorn didn't believe him, not for one moment, but wrapped his arm around his waist anyway and took a step forward. Legolas let out a barely hearable moan and flinched as the ache in his weary body protested sharply at the movement.

Slowly the pair shuffled towards the door, their seemingly every step punctuated with soft sounds of pain from the elf. It was with great relief for both the man and the prince that Aragorn steered them into a empty room not far down the hall.

It was slightly smaller than the previous one, and did not hold as many comforts, but for the moment it was fine. All Legolas cared about was having a bed on which to rest his aching body. Aragorn softly prattled on about everything and nothing as he tended to the elf's needs, putting his patient at ease. By time he had finished cleaning the shoulder wound, Legolas was once more asleep.

NOFINERFRIENDS

When Legolas awoke the next morning it was too an intensely sore and stiff body that ached without relenting. He could not get comfortable, no matter which way he turned, partly due to the sling that someone, Aragorn most likely, had placed his left arm into. His throat had also swelled up so much from his almost strangling the day before that he was having trouble breathing. It was a welcome distraction when the door was eased open and Aragorn stepped through, shutting it again just as carefully and silently.

"I'm awake…" Legolas rasped out, clearing his throat loudly.

Aragorn turned to him, a rueful grin on his face, "Did I wake you? And just nod or shake your head, don't worry about talking."

"No…" Legolas whispered, directly disobeying Aragorn as he attempted to get his voice above his whisper. The human turned a pointed glare on him and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"If you keep talking it is going to take twice as long for the swelling to go down," the healer reprimanded, lightly touching the hot skin at the base of Legolas' throat. As he did so, he noticed how stiff and tense friend was and glanced towards the window, checking the time, "You were sleeping so soundly I didn't want to wake you and give you medication," the man said softly, a light, slightly guilty smile touching his lips. "I can see know that that was probably a mistake."Legolas shrugged and winced at the thoughtless action and shifted again for what seemed the hundredth time, trying to get comfortable.

"I am sore all over," he breathed out in a croak, making Aragorn laugh out loud.

"You should be. If you weren't, I might suspect you for being more than elf. You did take quite a beating yesterday." The man stood up from the bed and crossed to the side of a table and began to sift through the herbs spread atop, his nimble fingers plucking up his choices with ease.

Legolas snorted and used his good arm to push himself upright, using the wall beside him as leverage. Aragorn turned around and cringed, lunging to help Legolas despite the look that elf laid on him that clearly said that he could do it himself.

"I didn't tell you that you could sit up yet, now did I?" the human said sternly, grabbing a couple of pillows and pushing them behind the prince's back. Legolas just smiled at the man, clutching his injured arm tightly as if it could stop the pain, and leaned heavily back. Shaking his head in disbelief, Aragorn went back to the table and returned with a steaming mug.

"Drink it, it will relieve your pain."

Legolas took it cautiously, sniffing it before he dared to take a sip. "It won't put me to sleep, will it?" he asked, looking up at Aragorn as he arched an eyebrow in question.

"I swear on my honor that it won't make you sleep," Aragorn insisted, rolling his eyes as the elf took the first sip apprehensively. When he was sure it wasn't drugged with sleeping herbs, the elf downed the rest of it. The hot liquid felt good on his sore throat and in a minute a fuzzy warmness crept across his mind and his nerves dulled their senses. The pain diminished to a bearable, dull, buzz in the background and the elf relaxed further into the comfort of the fluffy pillows.

" _Hannon le, mellon-nin_ ," he murmured, handing the cup back over. His voice was stronger and clearer before, thanks to the healing properties of the herbs. Aragorn still frowned, however, at the sound of the elf's voice. His healing instincts where screaming at him to force the elf to stop talking, to give his throat a chance to heal, but he doubted that he would be able to stop his friend. Legolas couldn't be shifted if he put his mind to something, that Aragorn had learned well in their years of friendship.

"How did you find me?" Legolas asked a moment later, opening his eyes and looking at Aragorn intently.

"Hmm?" Aragorn asked, turning his full attention back to the elf.

"How did you find me? _I_ didn't even know where Dirhéal was keeping me."

"Oh!" Aragorn said, comprehension dawning in his eyes as the caught the train of the elf's thoughts. Sitting back down on the bed, he shifted himself until he was leaning up again the wall and launched into his tale. When he had finished, Legolas looked ready to leap from his bed and start pacing.

"You found my horse!" he cried excitedly, making Aragorn inwardly cringe, but Legolas seemed hardly able to feel the pain from speaking.

"Yes, he is down in the stables," Aragorn replied patiently, hardly able to keep the smile off his face at the elf's reaction. He had so missed this in the past week. "And no, Legolas you can't get up yet and see him. You are still weak," he said, preguessing the elf's next words. Reaching out he gently pushed the elf back to a sitting position.

"You are no fun," Legolas pouted, making Aragorn snort. "So I was in the dungeons, the whole time?" he clarified. The new information was racing through his mind with the speed of a bee in the spring.

"Yup." Aragorn smirked as Legolas yawned widely through his next question.

"And I was missing for a month?"

"More than a month, actually, it was more of month when we finally discovered that you where even missing." The human stood from the bed with a small groan, stretching his arms over his head. "The next two weeks where ones that I would like to forget. Don't ever go missing again without any clues, alright?"

"I'll attempt," Legolas said sarcastically. He was still brimming to the top with questions, but his body was beginning to betray him and it was with great effort that he resisted the urge to close his eyes.

"So…" Aragorn asked, redirected the elf's attention. "Do you mind telling me your part of the story? Or do you want to sleep instead."Legolas shook his head vigorously and shifted positions gingerly. It didn't take overly long to tell his side of the story and when he finished Aragorn only smiled at him, clearly shaken.

"I guess I owe you my life once again, and once again I seem to be responsible for getting you involved in matters that didn't involve you, which once again lead you to getting injured like this."

Legolas shook his head, replying almost immediately, "First off, you saved me from a long torturous death that was planned for me and second, it was my choice therefore my fault." Aragorn sighed, glaring out the window and reliving the horror he had felt upon finding his greatest friend down in his _own_ dungeons. Legolas saw the look on the man's face and reached out, gently touching his shoulder.

"It is over now. Don't dwell on the past," he urged, clearing his throat roughly as his voice began to falter and rasp once more. Aragorn noticed this and suppressed an I-told-you-so, instead saying with a sigh,

"I think we really have been through far too much in our lives together, mellon…"

"Our fathers would more than agree." Legolas commented with a sly grin, remembering a few of the more dramatic times when his father had lost his temper with him for being 'careless'. He nestled further into the pillows and closed his eyes, "Forgive me, my friend, but I must sleep now," he told Aragorn in a begrudging tone, his hatred for the weakness showing in his face.

"Yes, yes you do. Forgive me for keeping you talking," Aragorn said, patting the elf's arm softly as he stood to leave. "I want to go check on Eldarion and make sure that he is copping alright, but then I will come back here."

"I'll be fine. You don't need to be constantly checking on me," Legolas assured in a sleepy tone, rolling over tentatively and pulling the blanket higher up around him with his good hand.

"Right," Aragorn said sarcastically accompanied by an eye roll that did not fit his royal status, "I don't doubt that I will come back to here to find you dancing around and undoing all my hard work. Stay put and stay in bed," he ordered, shaking his finger at the elf's back, who he could hear chuckling softly.

"You worry too much, Estel. I wouldn't 'dance' around!" Legolas called back, waiting for the door to slide shut before letting out a soft moan of pain and relief. He hurt much more then he had let on. His throat was practically on fire and his shoulder stung with a constant vengeance, as if to reprimand him for using it to block the piece of steel that had been aiming for his heart.

Moaning lightly again, Legolas turned his face into the pillow to drown the noise and closed his heavy eyelids, trying to will the pain away long enough to slip into a dreamless sleep. Only minutes later, his wish was granted.

TO BE CONCLUDED...

 **Well...it is for sure wrapping up. One last one, my friends! But then another story, so...**

 **Review replies:**

 **Idon'tliketoast:** aW, I am glad that you like it so much! I promise to always update on Fridays unless something pops up, but that rarely happens. :) Thank so much!

 **Cat:** I don't really like moving, it takes to much energy. I didn't realize how much crap I had till I had to put it all in boxes. Thank you for understanding, though, and thank you for the review!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Last chapter... :( You should be happy, though, you are getting a slighltly early update.**

 **This has indeed been an adventure with all of you. :) Thank you so much, your support means everything!**

 **Disclaimer: not mine.**

Epilogue

Legolas slept on and off for the next several days. Sometimes he woke to Aragorn's prodding and strong doses of medication and other times he woke on his own, though Aragorn was there most of the time.

A week or so after Dirhéal and Madoc's deaths, Legolas was pried back to wakefulness by the feeling of pudgy, tender hands touching his face and a high pitched voice calling his name.

"I'm awake…" he moaned, rolling over onto his other side and digging his face further into the pillow. He was still not fully healed, in fact he was a long ways from it, and it took more effort than usually to free his mind of the fog of sleep. The voice sighed dramatically and Legolas felt the child's irritation sharply as he was poked in the side.

"Ada says you have to get up!" the child, who could only be Eldarion, insisted. Legolas smiled into the pillows, still not turning to face Aragorn's son. He couldn't hear the man himself, but guessed that he wasn't far behind.

"Uncle Legolas!" Eldarion wailed in exasperation, beginning to bounce up and down on the bed. "Ada said that you have to wake up and eat." Each word was punctuated by a jump and the bed began to squeak and shake. Legolas fought hard not to laugh, biting his lower lips to also hide the wince that was threatening to cross his face as his still healing body was jerked roughly.

Legolas just caught sound of the door opening behind them before a sharp exclamation was heard throughout the room.

"Eldarion!" Aragorn reprimanded in a loud tone, setting the trey he was caring down with a sharp smack. The boy toppled over with a shrill shriek of surprise and landed atop the elf, making Legolas give a small "umph" of pain and jerk slightly. He was fully awake now if he hadn't been before.

Aragorn sighed, shaking his head lightly as he came forward, scooping his small son up off the elf and holding him on his hip. "I asked you to wake Uncle Legolas, not use his bed for jumping on like a toad," he said reproachfully, but warmly. He ruffled the boy's hair playful and grinned widely as his son giggled.

"It was fine, Aragorn," Legolas spoke up, waving his hand lightly as if to wash it all away. He rolled over and eased himself gingerly up into a sitting position, smiling secretively at Eldarion. "And he was right, young one, you did look rather like a toad," he teased, eyes glinting playfully. Eldarion giggled again and wriggled free of his father's grip, dropping to all fours with his knees bunched up under his body and his arms held slightly away from his side.

"Rib-bit!" he croaked, leaping away. He proceeded to go around the room is such a fashion, and both the elf and the ranger watched his antics with wide grins.

"Your son takes after you!" Legolas stated, eyes glittering happily, "In fact, he may have gotten the even better deal as he ended up with Arwen looks."

Aragorn spluttered indigently, feigning horror as his smiling eyes traced his offspring around the room. "Are you suggesting that Arwen is the only good looking one?" he questioned lightly, turning back to face his friend as Eldarion continued to hop and croak. Legolas laughed in response

"You'd be better looking if you would wash sometimes, though, admittedly, that has improved a great deal since you married Arwen. Thank goodness."

"Well, you are just a prissy elf! _Arwen_ thinks I'm handsome, even with a little bit of mud every now and then. _And_ her opinion matters much more than yours, as she is a woman." Aragorn gently removed the efl's sling and parted the bandages still wrapped around his shoulder, examining the healing wound. It was greatly improved from the last time he had seen it and couldn't help but smiling, Legolas was on the mend.

"Ah, but love can be blind. She is your wife, after all. What else could she say!" Legolas pointed out, grinning as Aragorn shot a glare at him. The man carefully placed his arm back in the sling and moved away towards the table were the tray was sitting.

"Be grateful you are still injured," he warned playfully, moving back and placing the trey of food of on Legolas' lap. Eldarion, who had stopped leaping across the floor, clambered back up onto the bed with a hungry look in his eyes. He nestled down against the elf's side and grinned up at him with enough happiness to light the world.

"Did I make a good toad?" he asked, shaking his hair out of his eyes. Despite Legolas' early jibe, Eldarion took after Aragorn in looks as well as personality, though he was certainly his mother's child as well.

"Turn green and you would fit right in with the toads down at the river," Legolas assured, making the young boy laugh at the thought.

"That would be silly, Uncle Legolas! I couldn't turn green!" he said, turning so serious that Aragorn had to hide his snorts of laughter as coughs, sharing an amused look with Legolas as he do so.

"Yes, Uncle Legolas," Aragorn mimicked after he got under control, "Where do you get these crazy ideas! One might think that you have been hit over the head a few too many times."

Legolas chortled, picking up his fork and picking disdainfully through the food, "It has never been my fault, you know, it's you who does the leading…well, maybe six out of ten times it is your fault." Eldarion frowned, trying to keep up with the conversation but being unable to really follow it. Instead, he eyed the food, looking for something sweet to eat. This gained his full attention and he lost track of what was going on around him and what the two adults where talking about.

"Are you counting all the times before you meet me and rubbed off on me? Because I am pretty sure that would make a difference in your figures," Aragorn teased, perching easily on the corner of the bed by Legolas' feet. Legolas snorted indigently.

"Of course I am not! It wouldn't be fair considering how much longer I have lived. Plus, it would not make _that_ large of a difference. You where the one always getting me into trouble," he stated as a fact, pointing his fork full of food at the human. "I've been injured more in the past hundred years than my Ada thought was possible."

"I think it was a combination of both of us that created most of the problems…" Aragorn comprised, "I'm surprised that neither of our fathers forbade us from going anywhere together." As he said this, a light smile touched his lips, remembering fondly back on all the times that exact threat had been used against them.

"That's because they wouldn't have been able to keep us apart." Legolas exclaimed, before wincing lightly as he shifted. Aragorn nodded, even as he gave his friend a pointed glare that told the elf to remain still.

"No, mellon-nin, nothing ever could. Not our fathers, not orcs, not men or elves. No matter how hard some of them tried our friendship has survived it all. Circumstances, people, and places may change, but _that_ never will."

 **THE END**

 **Nope, it never will. :) In fact... next week! A new story will come and with it a new conflict to test our two friends!** **Look for "The Hands of a Healer" on Friday!**

 **Review Reply:**

 **Guest:** This one was early too! Can't promise anything for the next story, however, this was kind of a unique last few weeks. :) Yes, that is indeed that is always a fantastic moment. My favorite for sure. Thanks!

 **Idon'tliketoast:** Fridays are always my favorite because I get to post. :) Haha... well, he is getting ok, and he going to continue to heal, so all is well that ends well. Thanks!


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